Genesis
by q1120790
Summary: Finally, completely revised. Told the way it was originally intended...Xover with Supergirl. Kara and Clark are brought together after a summer vacation goes sour, and a new evil arises... A new prelude...Updated, finally...
1. Prelude

**Disclaimer: Yep, we all know the drill…Making no profit from this yada yada yada…Smallville, and Supergirl, and any other shows made mention of here, are the profit of those people who own them (grrrr, and How I hate them.) If _I did_ own Smallville, why in all of the wacky palnets in our universe would I be doing this... :)**

**This is the revised version of what is turning out to be the largest venture into the world of fan fiction I have done so far…and by far the most drawn out. And a lot has changed since I started that lonely, boring day 4 years ago. **

**Man I'm a lazy cow…**

**Anyway, enjoy...**

* * *

PRELUDE

The rain pelted down, viciously fast drops that transformed an ordinary summer storm into a harsh thundering caphony. Night was closing in around the chaos that spread across the deserted mud fields, and what little sky could be seen through the thickening haze of cloud and sleet, shone dully by the light of a starry cluster overhead.

Some of the trees still standing were tipped at odd angles against the onslaught, the sheer force of the storm either breaking or bending low the huge trunks of these mahogany giants. Unbelievably, these too soon fell, unheard, silent against the storm's velocity.

Wind howled loudly above the screams of the anguished: dozens of figures littered the ground, lifeless eyes reflecting none of the flickering glitter from above.

Hunched bodies moaning in a pain some had never before felt, others hoped never to feel again, cradling their loved ones awkwardly, as though expecting to awaken soon from a nightmare borne of their deepest fears.

Not all were dead; families by the dozen were beginning to search the area, screaming the names of those they were yet to find- some would get lucky, would find the missing persons alive, or intact.

Others, not so much- and even the echoing force of the storm could not silence those screams, as the frantic air of desperate searching ceased abruptly, the ensuing silence almost as horrifying as the cries that broke them.

Those cries of the families that would be burying half of their children, the halves that could be found…such bloody sights that break the human mind, crumble the soul into a miserable never ending wail.

Horrible hear trenching sounds that tore at the hearts of the lucky, grief creeping steadily into the minds and souls of all that had survived…all that were still alive.

In the days to come, many would wish they hadn't. Many would wish that living with the memory of that night wasn't a certain kind of death within itself, and realised that all of the hundreds of persons on the field that night, had all died in one form or another.

One figure stood, unmoving. A silent vanguard over a small cluster of hunched figures an arm length away, too absorbed in their own grief to notice the up-swelling of the storm around them.

Jonathon and Martha Kent wept; unable to contain the overwhelming grief that filled their everything with nothing- rocking the still, young form that lay between them, knowing without a doubt, that their son would not be coming back to them.

Beside them, the shocked, pale face of Chloe Sullivan blinked owlishly at the bloody broken body of her long-time friend, arms crossed in front of herself in a vain attempt to keep the pain in her heart from exploding into a torrent of hysterical screams.

Pete had long before given up trying to stay calm- sobbing silently into the one armed hug the older man had folded him into once the first of the tears fell from his face. Shoulders heaving, Pete buried his head into Mr Kent's signature jacket, ignoring the feel of the wet fabric against his cheek, the mud and blood stains…Clark's blood.

Off to the side, Lana Lang folded over on herself, hands clutching at the gnawing pain in her stomach, fingers like talons through the thin blue cotton of her dress, and sank to the ground with a rush. Her wide, disbelieving eyes took in the lurid scene that played out before them, and her face crumpled, as she began sobbing silently into her enclosed fist.

The figure stood, wordlessly observing all of this, stoic. Then, piercing blue eyes turned to the sky, too wet with tears to notice the bitter sting of the tiny drops as they found their mark, void with an emptiness that even now was extinguishing all hope.

"I'm sorry" she whispered, head bowed low. "This is all my fault."

"My fault." Hair plastered to her skull, clothing soaked, the blue chill of the cold seeping into the dying warmth of her skin, she let her arms hang loosely at her sides, uncaring. With rivers of blood dripping off her fingertips in a steady, even rhythm; she looked every bit the last daughter of a lost race.

Kara Zor-El gave one long, last glance, filled with all the neglected love she held, at the empty shell of her cousin, her only family, and those that shared it with him; a grim line of determination set along her jaw.

Addressing the Kents softly, she added, "_I can fix this._" Louder, she turned to the direction of the Indian caves, repeating it with greater strength.

"I WILL fix this!" Gathering speed, she took off at a blurring run, leaving behind the protesting sounds of Chloe, Pete and the others, letting them melt into the background of screams and cries that reverberated throughout the fields.

_What are you doing little girl?_

That horrible voice, of that terrible entity, echoed through her head, as she stopped, poised on the darkened edge of the caves, hesitant. Then fear turned to steel and pushing through the shadows, green fractures of light sending shards of agony into her already agonised limbs.

The voice repeated the question; amusement quickly fading at her determination and it began shrieking threats in a violent array of English and Kryptonian.

But she didn't fucking care.

Reaching into the tattered pocket of her jacket, she found the items, and her fingers curled around one, bringing it out to shine like a beacon of hope against the bitter spikes of fear, running through her mind like snakes. Holding it up, she ran the rest of the way, and was suddenly there.

The room stood as it had when the whole nightmare had started: she moved past the raised platform in the centre of the room, and with a single minded focus stood facing the octagonal shape imbedded within the Kryptonian display on the far wall.

As she bent her head to frown down at the disk in her hand, the voice raised again.

_No, no, NOOO! You can't do that! What are you doing to meeeee?_ Smirking, she lifted her hand in one swift movement, and shoved her key into the octagonal space.

"I'm doing what I should have done a long time ago." Fierce pride clouded her eyes for a second.

"What Clark would have done."

The pulsing of light grew to a bright, white hot heartbeat that consumed the shadows in a blinding wave after wave of pure energy.

Kara felt herself being lifted up by an invisible force, and slowly but surely brought the other item out of her pocket to hold out in front of her. The translucent crystal glowed with a pure purpose, strong and true.

With her last once of strength she plugged it into the faint groove next to the key, and a red, blue and yellow circle of alien words sprang to life in the wall, spinning faster and faster until a white vortex materialized in the middle of the room.

"I HAVE TO GO BACK." Kara screamed into the whirring sphere, watching as the darkness was pulled into the pure energy of the vortex, before she sucked in a sharp intake of air, heartbeat quickening erratically.

Breathing deeply her mind flashed- to all of the faces of those now dead, and lost- and she found her courage.

With a running leap, she followed suit, clearing the edge of the sphere and jumping into the disappearing light, before it winked out of existence, taking both her and the shadow with it.

**

* * *

Yes I know, I'm a horrible pain in the arse that deserves to burn in the fiery depths of damnation after a cliffhanger like that, but, (shrugs shoulders) watcha gonna do?**

**Did I mention READ AND REVIEW? Do it (bad Arnold Schwarzenegger impression), You must DO it NOW! He he (I'm evil.)**


	2. Metropolis: New Faces, Old Problems

**Disclaimer: Yep, we all know the drill…Making no profit from this yada yada yada…Smallville, and Supergirl, and any other shows made mention of here, are the profit of those people who own them (grrrr, and How I hate them.) If _I did_ own Smallville, why in all of the wacky planets in our universe would I be doing this... :)**

**Yes, yes, It is a little same, but** **I did change alot.**

* * *

CHAPTER ONE

_**COUNTDOWN: 14 DAYS, 12 Hours, 10 min…**_

**TWO WEEKS PRIOR…**

* * *

The sun rose high over a bustling Metropolis. Bathing the vast landscape of cement in early morning luminance, the gargantuan glass towers were illuminated like giants, stirring from slumber. Refracted light from high-powered office windows sparkled playfully, highlighting the buildings to their best.

Traffic chuffed through the streets. Braking noisinly at lights, the automatons coughed and spluttered, sending their invisible poisons into the air. Steam rose from the sewers, and mechanical screeches told of shop keeps preparing their businesses for the day.

The gem of the cities crown, located in the heart of the capital, stood with a contemptuous air, surveying its neighbours. Lex Corp gleamed brightly, oblivious to the waking chaos of the day. Indeed, it would seem as though this building never rested.

But today was not entirely business as usual.

Floats and floating animals alike were crammed into its deserted car parks… eager children a waiting the magic hour. Excitement hummed and took flight, out of control.

Today the city celebrated its origin, and from observance no expense was spared. One hundred years of hustle and bustle would light the fuse of explosive action set for the celebration.

With wings outstretched, the breeze skimmed the polished glass windows. Twisting and turning through the streets it crashed into the buildings, and in breathy whispers, flew off again.

Glenview apartments stood on the corner of Westerson and James, over looking the serenity of Metropolis Park. Like all aspects of the city, the park's beauty hid a ruthless demeanour. In the light, lush green treetops reached for the clouds. But after dusk…faces loomed in the shadows, and motorcycle roars pierced the night air.

As the sun rose, a lone figure admired the crisp morning view from her park side balcony.

Face tilted to the sun, she sighed with unconcealed longing. Feeling fragmented, with missing pieces unknown to her, it was hard to find peace. Even in the sunrise. Sighing again, she slumped against the rail, bringing the streets below into view.

People bustling, shopping and racing to get to work on time, prepare for the festival. Not for the first time, she wished she were one of them. Suddenly bleak eyes brimmed with un-shed tears, her throat constricted with words too confronting to utter aloud.

She stood, arms folded over her chest, hands massaging her heart, trying to reach pain buried deep down, to curb it. For a few agonizing moments, it swelled, and then ceased abruptly…leaving her breathless. And frozen. And _scared…_

She didn't want to believe that she would remain like this for the rest of her life: outside, looking in…seeking peace in sunrises on high story balconies.

To be able to reach out and … touch, make a connection…love… Never truly understanding the needs, and wants she felt, to fill the holes in her life with something _other _than detachment…that stuff cemented, hard, tough to break.

And it was a lie, somewhat. She could connect, if she really wanted. But in the end, it all went the same way- either protect them, or let them go. But she could never bring herself to tell them the truth. Because, _and here was the real kicker_, even if she couldn't see the open disgust on their faces, then she could feel it echoing through their heads, through their movements as they pulling away sharply.

_Speaking of hearing things…_

Whispers of thought blew up from the streets, and Kara paused, unsure. Using her powers was always a slightly novel experience, and using it superfluously always brought a thread of guilt weaving across her conscience.

Sighing, she brushed the negativity aside, and pushed the air out of her lungs in a great whoosh, opening her mind to the sea of emotions below. _Practice makes perfect I guess…_

Craning her head, ever so slightly she concentrated, eyes narrowed on the group of people just rounding the corner, mutterings like abstract radio channels, running together to get…there. Listening in, she separated the fragments, shifting all focus to the loudest, most insistent of the voices…

_Someone extraordinary… I don't want to be helpless! Hurry up, you're wasting my time... _

_I hurt, and he doesn't notice, why do I… _

…_And that's dangerous. But I'm not ready._

_Move along darlin', parade's almost starten'… Does this dress make my butt look big?_

_He's cute, wonder if he's straight… My parents are gonna kill be when they find out… _

_Oh, God, this is hopeless… Going round in circles._

Bored, she cut off the last voice, satisfied at least that her control was better this morning than previous psychic barrages.

Running an impatient hand through a mass of brown, tumbling curls, she rested her hand, cool and steady on the nape of her neck, the long tapered fingers gripping into the tense muscles of her shoulder. After a second, she shook herself, a wry smile dashing the unconscious frown from her lips, thinly set.

She barked out a laugh. "What am I doing, anyway? I shouldn't be thinking like that. May as well…"

Suddenly the floor seemed a long way away, and she groaned in painful recognition, as the familiar tug of a vision sent her mind into a lurching whirl.

"Oh, you've got to be kidding m…._gasp_!"

Flash

_She stood at the edge of a precipice, hair plastered to her face, blood running down her cheeks, screaming at the wind. "God damn you…I HATE YOU…I hate that fate spat on me like this, left me as the biggest twisted JOKE this planet has ever seen! How dare you take my life away from me! Leaving me alone…so many questions unanswered. What do I do? Answer me! ANSWER ME!"_

End Flash

Unsettling. _That was really disturbing_. Pausing to look down at the cup in her hand, she frowned, determined to blame the coffee for a metal whiplash from abusing her powers like she had. _Personally, I don't think that could have gotten any more abstract than that was!_

In any case, she really wasn't in the mood to try and decipher the vision, and filed it way just in case. She sighed, casting a final glance at the moving crowds below.

Metal crashed and scraped together, echoing loudly from the apartment kitchen, jerking her from the spiralling oblivion of reflection. Exhaling deeply, she felt her skin prickle as the sun warmed her, caressing her face and chased away the chill.

"Linda. LINDA! Linda, if you're up you can help me make… (_Thump_)…ow, my _foot_…"

Silence.

"What the hell is th… Oh, For Heaven's sake! Linda, I swear on all things holy that if you leave your things lying around again, they are going to become acquainted with the trashcan."

Grinning from ear to ear, she turned, crossing the balcony slowly. Shutting the door behind her, she surveyed last night's carnage. It…was…disgusting.

"Wow, that was some party, huh?" hurrying to the stove, she doused the charred remains of sausage. _And…eurrrghhh…eggs as well_. "You enjoy yourself?"

"Do not remind me, please" her childhood friend's anguished reply fell on deaf ears as she continued.

"You know, Dave, I _did_ mention that my college buds party hard, and yet you…"

"Linda, I may be excessively hung over, with half my clothes missing, and what feels like the left lobe of my brains spilling out my ears…but I _do_ remember what I said!"

"Really! And here I was thinking you were the only responsible one amongst us. But as it turns out, you could drink Gun's and Roses under the table!"

With eyes twinkling she recited his parting words to her on her first day of senior year. "Now Linda," she mocked in a masculine tone "no drugs, no strippers, no sex, and above all…no excessive drinking."

"Linda…" Dave jokingly warned, eyes sparkling ever so slightly.

"When I was your age, which was _when_, by the way? Two years ago?" Encouraged by his silence, she continued, tucking a rogue stand of brunette hair, behind her ear.

"Well…I was never allowed to travel anywhere without the family, blah, blah, blah". Laughing, she danced in and playfully whacked his arm, ducking nimbly as the tea towel arched through the air above her head.

"Hey, what did I tell you crazy kids about horseplay in the kitchen?" Tracy scolded the pair as she stumbled into the hall. Wiping the sleep from tired eyes, she inspected the living room.

"Oh…my…God! We really made one hell'va mess last night…ahhh…this morning" she stared slack-jawed at the floor. "I think! We are in such deep shi…"

No sooner had the words left her mouth, than Kara zipped around the room, a blur to the human eye. Food leftovers and take-away containers sailed in graceful arches through the air before landing squarely in the kitchen bin. The lounge room seemingly transformed itself before their eyes, and the two spectators were left breathless in Linda's wake. Her invisible hands left surfaces sparkling as shafts of morning sunlight penetrated the room.

Tracey spared a glance at Dave, and watched with growing amusement as he opened his mouth in reprimand of Kara's antics, then as if thinking better of it…shut it again. Tracey could tell from the reaction that using Linda's super powered attributes for cleaning had been greatly debated between the two.

Obviously, it would also seem, that Linda had won.

Meeting Tracey's gaze, he shared with a mutual eye rolling, before returning his attention back to Kara. Now standing in the centre of a pristine lounge, she shrugged unselfconsciously, cheeks pink and windswept.

He shook his head in wonderment. _I am never going to get used to that, no matter how many times she uses her powers just to get a rise out of me. _

"It's a good thing we have a cleaning fairy!" he mocked. "How about the bathroom now you cute little extraterrestrial cleaning fairy, you?" Luckily, Dave realised, he was too far behind the kitchen counter to worry about getting a super powered wedgee for that comment.

"_Fairy…Cute_. Cute yourself." Linda threw him an exasperated look over her shoulder, as she walked down the hallway. Silence rang through the apartment, until…

"Oh, great merciful CRAP! The BATHROOM!"

Tracy ran to the ensuite, Dave following close behind. They bumped into a yawning Becky, who came stumbling out of the guest bedroom.

Slightly bemused, she smiled, shaking her head. "I told them not to buy Chinese from Chuckey's Diner."

She paused at the door of the kitchen, sparing a backward frown of confusion at the lounge. "Wow," she complimented the now vacant hallway.

"When you guys put your minds to it…and after last night I was sure it would take at least a century and a half to clean up…oh well… Hmmm, what's for breakfast?" Eyeing the charred eggs with interest, Becky was oblivious to the moans of despair now emanating from the bathroom.

**

* * *

NOTE: Due to censorship, and humanitarian laws, the authors are not permitted to detail any further comments about the state of that bathroom. Just take our word for it…And don't try to imagine it, it's not pretty!**

* * *

"I am NOT cleaning up that!" exclaimed Linda with a horrified look on her face. Under her breath she muttered, "Super smell really stinks!"

"Normal smell ain't much better!" said Tracy gagging.

Gasping for air, Linda wondered whether it was possible for her to die of anything NOT Kryptonite related. She decided no to take the chance. Half shoving her way out of the mess, then turned, gesturing at it to Dave. "Guest's first." At his raised eyebrow, she growled, "I insist. Payback for the fairy comment." She grinned maliciously. _This should be funny…_

"No uh no I think we'll be ok…. I hope" Dave wished unhappily, his hand clamped over his mouth at the sight.

Becky waltzed in "I come bearing coffee and ….err…. toast with eggs…. anyone hungry?" "Did I…. I mean did someone else do that last night?" Becky said as she stared guiltily at the carpet.

**Five dry retching episodes later…(Well, we told you not to imagine it) **

The bathroom and the rest of the apartment were clean and smell free. "Thank god for 'spray 'n' wipe'!" said a tired Dave, nausea gone.

"And super powers" muttered Linda quietly, looking at Becky's turned back with caution. Her friend was still under the impression that the trio had undertaken the lounge cleaning in the early hours of the morning. _She's better off not knowing…_

"Excuse me…I think elbow grease did most of the work here! We all know who the real heroes are!" Triumphantly, Dave paused for a mock salute, slumping into one of the couch chairs.

"Yay! We're all so excited for you!" came the sarcastic retort.

"Oh! They love me, they really love me!" Dave replied with a big grin.

Rolling her eyes, Linda racked her brain for a change of topic. Involuntarily, her thought's turned towards her Dads not-too-distant temporary transfer.

Yearly, _and_ at the end of spring vacation, was (in Linda's opinion) the worst time imaginable for a father-daughter road trip. Especially considering, earlier attempted family bonding diasters. Half bad luck, half thanks to the occasional villain sprouting up, but mostly…because of her embarrassingly low knowledge of the animal anatomy, her family was now banned from almost every major theme park she could think of.

Kara wondered if there would be a day that she could look back on the one particular trip to Disneyworld and not cringe.

"So Dave, heading back to Shortsville soon? I personally couldn't stand being away from that many cows… smell that country air!" said Linda sarcastically.

"Soon…I know your not looking forward to it, either but on the bright side, you know there's lots to do. And I'll be there" he stopped, slightly deflated by his best friend's sudden attitude.

"What bright side? …It's a small crappy town" Linda's scowl darkened.

Becky piped up. " Not to mention no shops worth looking in…"

"And probably no cute guys!" finished Tracy.

Dave struck back, mildly insulted. "You never complained this loud before. In fact when we were kids you…"

"Well, I'm a lot older now, in case you haven't noticed," Linda was shocked at the edge in her tone. "And I've had a lot of things…that was when I had a family…and before we almost messed everything up by getting together…Ohhh!"

As soon as the words came out she new she had gone to far.

"We still are friends, Linda…just not the same way as before…and well…" Guilt rose in tides as her eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the floor. Linda rubbed her temples, agitated, suddenly feeling wearier than her years.

" Linda, you and I…well…its…" pausing, he caught her elusive eye with his own, communicating the true message behind the words. "…Complicated." Linda cringed at the sadness in his voice, knowing she had put it there.

_She _was the complication, and the implication struck deep, at old wounds. Massaging at her forehead, creased into frown lines, she reached down into the well inside her, searching for the right words.

"Dave I'm sorry," she apologised, "you know I was just…well…"

"I dunno" Becky cut in, jokingly. "Put you and Linda's father together in a room and it's quite explosive."

"In fact," she mused, exploring the new train of thought, "I haven't seen the pair of you two losers in the same room without fighting since the incident last year. You know with the weird robberies, and when that pyromanic with the crime syndicate started blowing up banks...and stuff."

Linda shifted uncomfortably as she remembered. Her alter ego had been almost run ragged with accidents caused by that homicidal lunatic.

_Not only me_. She caught the sudden tightness that passed over Tracey's face. Both their fathers had been on the force together since their rookie days, and had been best friends ever since.

But last year…that wacko was not shy about media coverage, and often lingered at crime scenes, waiting for the authorities. With a penchant for trade marking their 'jobs' with dead cops, he and his goons more than halved the operating Police Force. It had been one long all expenses paid trip to hell for both their families. Realizing that Becky was still talking, Linda sent her friend her infamous '_Just drop it'_ glare.

"You remember Dave! And then of course, there was that time the two of you went on those not-so-secret rendezvous "she droned on, her eyes misting over in the dreamy-far-away look she got after watching 'Passions'.

_Oh, well_, Linda sighed. _It used to work_. She glanced desperately over at Tracy, who stared back with the same helplessness in her eyes. They both knew once Becky started on something, she was like a bulldog.

_Oh dear_. Out of the corner of her eye, Linda spotted the dark flush creeping its way up Dave's throat, and the muscle spasms in his jaw.

"Becky…" Linda began._ For once girl, just once_ she silently pleaded with her friend. _Just let it go_

"And then of course, we all thought you guys were okay after you broke off the friendship, and confessed that you'd slept with…" Becky trailed off, and clasped a hand over her mouth, eyes widening with dawning horror.

"Oh, Dave I didn't mean to say that," she spluttered.

_Too little too late_ Linda took a step back as her friend's eyes darkened with anger. Not good…

"It's just, I thought Linda had mentioned that she told us. By then it was kinda public knowledge anyway, so what harm…."?

"THAT was absolutely none of your business." Deathly quiet he turned to the girl, "What gives you the right to stick your brainless, nasty little head into someone else's private life, huh? NOTHING."

Becky stood shaking, and ran away shame faced to the bedroom. Linda turned to her father, her face a mask of fury, her control strain beyond belief as all of the building tension erupted. "That was out of line, Dave. You _know_ how she gets sometimes. Yes it was out of line, but so were you".

Sensing danger, Tracey jumped up to stand between the pair, glaring daggers at each other.

In her brightest voice said "Hey party people we're here for a day of fun and relaxation. So why don't we just stop acting like," Dave stormed out of the lounge. "Five-year olds," she continued, slightly miffed.

Turning to her remaining companion, she plastered a smile to her features, grimacing inwardly as the front door slammed. "Come, on Linda. The festival's in an hour and we could…"

"Oh, stow it Tracy" her friend exploded. White faced and trembling from dying rage she disappeared. Literally, and Tracey could barely spot a split second flash of blonde hair as it rounded the corner.

Seconds later, the bedroom door slammed in an echo of the front one. Collapsing on the couch, Tracy let out the breath she'd been holding in a long hiss. Miserable at the sudden turn the day had taken, she grumbled incoherently.

Desperate to break the ringing silence, she finished her speech, with an acute sense of irony twisting the words.

"…Get ready, get dressed and kiss our depressions goodbye. Won't today be such a blast?"

Appraising the room blindly, she dryly voiced one consolidation.

"Well, at least she didn't blow anything up!"

* * *

Clark was in _serious trouble._

Completely surrounded on all sides, nowhere to run or hide.

There was no way he could win this fight…but with no place to go…

"Oh, honey, lets try this store," the smile fixed on Clark's face was beginning to crack. _He was beginning to crack_…

The Metropolis Mall was buzzing with excitement, as various stores prepared for the after-parade rush. And as for Clark…

He was enjoying a _great_ day shopping for baby clothes with his mother, searching nearly every Infant-jumpsuit retailer in huge complex. Browsing the isles of the fifth store they had been in, Clark decided that he'd had enough.

"Mom, aren't we here to check for tractor parts?" his fake smile dropped completely as he came face to face with a frantic mother of three, and ducked into the next isle to avoid getting beaned by a pair of tiny sneakers. Watching the twin boys sneakily slip a squeaky frog toy into their harried mother's pocket, a sudden, unwelcome thought came to Clark.

_Oh, God! What if Mom's having twins?_ H swallowed noisily. _Maybe I should check…_

Pausing, he mulled over the idea in his mind.

_On second thoughts…_ Clarks' stomach rolled at the thought of x-raying his mothers' stomach. Brushing the thought aside, he desperately turned to Diversion tactics.

Completely oblivious to Clark's inner dilemma, Martha turned around, excited. "So do you like this?" she asked, for the twentieth time, clutching a pink floral baby dress.

"Wouldn't it be kinda embarrassing on _his_ first day of school? Not to mention, clash horribly with the blue Transformer's backpack Dad brought?" Clark questioned, grinning. Shooting him a wry glance, Martha prickled.

"No. I think SHE will love it!".

"You and Dad haven't decided on the ultrasound yet, have you?" Clark smiled knowingly at Martha's turned back.

"You needed super powers to discover that?" Martha threw over her shoulder.

After a minute, she straightened. Disappointed, she said, "There's nothing here. Let's try the next store." Wide eyed with growing horror, Clark tried to distract his mother from her mission.

"Maybe we should get something to eat, Mum," he asked hopefully. Silently Clark wished that he were anywhere else_. Even fighting kryptonite-enhanced mutants has got to be easier than this_.

At that moment, Martha's stomach gave an unmistakable growl.

"I guess we should".

Clark squashed the impulse to sigh, and offering up a silent prayer of thanks, helped his mother to the Eatery. As they came to the food court, the mascot from Chuckey's Chicken waltzed by in its blue suit and red cape. Distracted by the audacious ensemble, Clark stared after the caped poultry's retreating back…

* * *

Linda and her friends, having just finished lunch, sat gossiping in a corner table of the food court. Eyeing Tracy's bags, Linda exclaimed, "I still can't believe you can carry all that!"

Tracey, between fries, shot her friend an I-know-what-your-trying-to-do look. "Well, it's easy when your wallet lightens simultaneously."

Linda grimaced, knowing what was coming. "Tracey, listen…I'm really…truly…" Sensing her friend's remorse, Tracey shrugged off the apology.

"Girlfriend, do not go there."

Linda relieved, turned to her other companion. Becky sat there, eyebrows raised, waiting for her turn. "Becky you know Dave's been under a lot of stress lately…I mean University and his thesis, and well…"

"So?" Becky was still smarting from her the verbal lashing, and not keenly interested in taking the noble way out.

Tracey was enraged, "What do you mean, 'So'? How can you just sit there…."? As a heated argument erupted, Linda zoned out, not wanting to be involved.

She twisted in her chair, ribs resting uncomfortably against the hard backed plastic, as a hint of red and blue caught her eye. Captivated by the bold suit of a particular mascot, she ignored her friend's attempts for conversation.

"Hey, Earth to Linda, is anyone home?" Tracey stared mystified at her friend.

"Huh, I'm sorry, what?" Linda started, her attention back to her friends. "What is it with you and that chook!" Becky grinned looking where Linda's attention had been drawn. "I just….

* * *

"…Like the colours" Eyes drawn to the mascot, Clark grinned sheepishly.

"I know." Martha spared her son an amused glance. "How does the ad go, again Clark?" Involuntarily, he began humming the tune.

* * *

"I can't believe you know that song off by heart!" Becky said disgusted at her friends' behaviour.

"Why don't you join that geek with his mum, I think he's humming the tune too". The table turned to watch Clark who, by now, had been caught in their line of sight, between their table and the mascot.

"Actually the geek thing aside, he's kinda cute…" Tracey cocked her head, admiring the view.

"Yeah for a mommas boy!" Becky, unimpressed, turned to scrutinise the rest of food court.

Linda continued to stare… conflicted, as she was hit with an overwhelming wave of recognition. Oblivious to the outside world, her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and feelings.

_Ohhhh, head rush…Weird he looks kind of…a little…familiar, yet I've never seen him before in my life…at least I don't think…_

Her eyed widened as another face superimposed itself over Clark's. Blinking rapidly, her hand rose to her temple, the recognition grew sharper, and a name floated to the surface of her mind…

_But how do I know him? _Linda shook her head in self-disgust.

_Now I'm hallucinating about total strangers…_Becky was right. She really did need more sleep!

* * *

"Clark you have an audience. Please eat your food" Martha grumbled.

"What, Oh…"A fiery flush stained Clarks' cheeks. "Can we leave now?" Suddenly burritos had become an incredibly complex study.

He politely pulled his chair in as a harassed server squeezed past the table, all the time avoiding eye contact with his 'audience'. Hairs on his neck pricked, all the time he wondered at the tingling in his ears until noticing the tall brunette's stare practically boring a hole in his head. _Great Kent, just great. Better just sign up for the Metro Mental Institution and save…_

Without warning Clarks x-ray vision kicked in, and he knocked the table violently in surprise. The levels of the shopping complex stripped away and through the bluish tint of the x-ray, he watched the now visible skeletons of customers on lower floors.

_Wow. That was, unexpected…why now?_

Confused, and slightly dizzy with sudden light-headedness, his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, relieving the tingling fuzz on his tongue, and the bittersweet feel of salt tears running down the back of his throat.

_What the hell just happened? _

Staring weakly around, he hoped the episode had escaped attention. Satisfied, and with his heartbeat returning to normal, he let the dull roar of the food court engulf him, reducing the violent shrieking in his head to a dying buzz.

Clark gripped the table, until the barbed wire scratching at his nerves vanished, leaving his muscles twitching in the aftermath. As thoughts rushed in from all sides like crowding children, competing to be heard over one another, he breathed, focusing on the slow inhalation and exhalation, chest rising and falling, pushing the panic and worry aside.

Shrugging off the remaining doubt, he finally felt control surge and concentrated, glimpsing the malls foundations as he shut the vision off. _There, easier than a light switch. Hope it stays that way._

Sparing a glance at his mother, he was appeased to note her focus on her salad, oblivious to Clarks passing moment of panic and sickness.

_I am not bringing it up here. Mum has enough problems. I'll just wait until…until…Uww, heck Kent, you don't know, do you? Oh, well, can't do anything about it now! _

_Hey, was there a…?_

"Hey there's someone buried down there!"

"What!"

"Only kidding mum!" Clark laughed. Embarrassment forgotten, and eager to erase the experience from his thoughts, he tucked into his food with rising gusto. Soon, he was attacking the plate with the relish of a man who had been living in the Sahara Desert for weeks.

"Clark," his mother admonished, "how many times to I have to say it before it sinks in?" Martha continued, "Chew your food, you're not an animal!"

Clark stared up at her, among bites. " Are you sure?" Upon his mothers expression, he added, "Sorry, but aren't you always trying to tell me that I'm a growing boy?"

Martha bristled, as her previous advice was brought against her. "Yes Clark I do. It's just with your table manners, I'm beginning to wonder what you are growing up to be!"

"Well, so far, a fire-starter, a pervert, an ex-con…" he rattled off, not catching the sudden silence settling over the table, or the rising colour in his mother's cheeks.

"Clark, don't…" Martha's voice stuck, and drawing a deep breath, she continued with a voice woven in stress.

" Your dad really tries to deal with it all as best he can, Clark. Even I wonder at times. But he wants to trust you, he really does. The farm is not on stable ground financially, even with your _help_. And as soon as this season's crop comes in, the sooner we can sit down as a family and discuss the future. But until then, just _try_ to avoid trouble and mortally dangerous situations every other weekend! Okay?"

Clark, pausing for thought, conceded defeat, unwilling to enter into verbal sparring with his adoptive mother.

"Okay, okay," he sighed. "You win. From now on, you're looking at the poster child for manners and table etiquette"

"The poster child for smart alec-ness as well, apparently," slowly defrosting, Martha smiled at her son's comment. He smiled back; glad to break the icy seriousness before it set. Issues of the Kent household were straining at the best of times, no need to blanket everything with the unnecessary mention of it.

Their easy repartee resuming, they finished their meal in near silence, punctured occasionally with idyll chitchat. Sporadically, Clark would attempt covert glances at the Chuckey's mascot over his shoulder, as the ad's tune buzzed in the back of his mind.

* * *

Linda, on the other hand, was having a tougher time dismissing either one from her thoughts.

"How," gasped Becky, clutching her aching sides from laughter, "long has it been, Linda, three years of sudden chicken infatuation? Inquiring minds want to know the exact moment that you became a _loser_!"

Tracey, eager to say her piece, jumped in. "Nothing, and I mean nothing, will ever become of that business because of that suit. I mean come on," she paused, rolling her eyes to the heavens, as though seeking an answer from God, "Wearing your underwear on the outside of your tights will never, and I mean never, be popular!" she concluded her argument with utter conviction.

Reaching the end of her tether, grabbed onto the conversation lull like a life preserver. "You're absolutely right. What was I thinking?" she exclaimed in mock self-loathing. "I am sooo glad the pair of you have made me see the light. And here I was about to propose to the chook!" her voice dripped heavily of sarcasm and annoyance, brooking no retort.

" Well, aren't you the bubble breaker," Tracey commented, entertained at her friend's sudden mood swing.

"Yeah, lighten up. It's the busiest time of the retail year, with markdowns at 50 coming right from the autumn catalogues. Your family is in perfect health. And Dave, despite being semi-anal about certain topics," Becky muttered, clearly indignant, "will soon be returning to his wonderful life of University parties and skipping class. What's to be depressed about?" Tracey reluctantly nodded in agreement, although she scowled at Becky through the last part.

Linda's fuse was burning low. Her friend had all of the emotional empathy and maturity of a child. _With all the striking out that she does on that level, you'd think she'd just give up on being falsely sympathetic all the time._

"Fine, if we're here to shop, so let's shop," she jumped up from the chair, and turned on her heel. Her movements devoid of hesitation, Linda then marched to the escalators, catching a glimpse of the surprise flashing on their faces, mouths agape.

Stopping outside a second level popular boutique, arms crossed and foot stomping, she counted down silently. The rapid-fire echo of heels on marble sounded out from behind, indicating Tracey and Becky's haste to catch up.

With bags bouncing from their arms and jacket flaps flying, Tracey and Becky raced up to their friend's terse figure, their breaths coming in audible rasps.

Straining to be heard over Becky's grumbling, Tracey exclaimed, "_YO, _girlfriend…_gasp_…WHAT is your dilemma?" staring at Linda's expression with confusion.

"Nothing…Hey look 50 off at Suzie's" Linda smoothly changed the subject.

"What! You can catch up to me" Becky ran off, her exhaustion forgotten.

Following suit after their friend, they passed through the stores security, Tracey hissing at her friend "What's REALLY the problem?"

Linda strolled over to the markdowns table, pretending she hadn't heard a word. Tracey rolled her eyes at her friends maturity and remarked sharply, "I know you heard me, don't pull that ignoring shit with me!"

Surprised Linda's head jerked up, catching her friend's expression she sighed. "I've been having some weird dreams lately…"

"Well if it's about Brad Pitt and you doing you know what then that's just the pepperoni we had last night" At Linda's expression Tracey remarked, shrugging "_What_…"

Shaking her head, Linda continued "No not sex…" catching the eye of a passing customer she lowered her voice. "…Nightmares, screaming…blood everywhere" she said, the seriousness of the statement off set by the grotesque booger green shirt she was inspecting.

"Just put down that monstrous excuse for fashion and step away from the table" Becky sauntered up holding two pairs of pants for inspection.

Ignorant to what her friend's earlier conversation, she persisted, "Which pair do you like best…I think I like this purple and white pair…but on the other hand this red and blue pair are really striking".

Simultaneously Tracey and Linda replied ""Purple and White" "Blue and red", respectively. After sharing an amused glance, they turned to Becky, who made no effort to hide her irritation.

"Well, you're no help" shrugging her shoulders Becky strolled over to the change rooms, along the way eyeing several male patrons with interest. The two girls turned to each other after Becky entered the change rooms, expelling sighs of relief.

Tracey, eyes darting over the store for eavesdroppers, said "Ok now that she's gone…I have two things to say…1 she's right about the shirt…" pausing, she shot dirty looks at the table."…And 2, why the dreams now?"

"I …don't know. After that whole mess with Twilight, I really thought I'd seen the last of trouble you know. At least for a little while" Linda voice was filled with futility.

With disheartened eyes fixed on her friend's face she continued, "My visions _are getting worse_…if this morning was anything to go by, but my control is 100 . I should be glad", not sounding happy in the slightest.

"There's also this" said Linda turned her back to Tracey, and with trembling hands, lifted her brown hair to reveal…layers of blond hair underneath. "It's showed up on its own last week" she headed her friend's protests off at the pass. "No dyes"

"Ok that's just freaky…I mean how could that happen?" Tracey searched her friend's face with worry. "Is it possible? …Is there anything else?" she paused, unprepared for what came next.

"Kinda…little things…"

"What kinda _little things_?" Tracey didn't believe her for a second.

Linda remained silent, unwilling to burden her friend unnecessarily. "Just you know, growth spurts, growing…_other things_" she paused, grimacing down at her chest, leaving Tracey with no doubts as to what the other things were. "Gaining seven inches in two weeks, memory flashes of Krypton. You know the usual puberty issues."

Linda moved off to another part of the store, her face a mask of casual disconcerts. Tracey, temporarily eased by Linda's falsely bright tone, leaned over the table, continuing her inspection. After several seconds she froze, and stared after Linda, slowly comprehending the final two problems.

"Hey boo, I think these pants could look good on you." Suddenly dispersing, the fog surrounding Tracey gave way to the implications of Linda's revelations. Furious she stormed over to her friend, now listlessly tossing through several clothes racks.

"You know, with your height, these could really…"

"Linda, how could you not tell me this?"

"I just did." Linda tried to remain unconcerned at her friend hysterics. "Now about these shoes…"

Shards of alarm pierced Tracey's head, and panic rose like a tide. "Oh for God's sake Linda, screw the DAMN SHOES…"

Linda turned, guilt etched into every line in her face as she surveyed Tracey's white expression, and panicked stance. Focusing her x-ray vision, she checked for erratic beating or elevated blood pressure. Linda sighed to herself, grateful that Tracey's heartbeat was not fast enough for cardiac arrest.

Now satisfied, she grinned, and her eyes, now normal, beseeched her friend to calm down. "You know, trying to _do_ the footwear…hmmm, I imagine the Management might not approve. And not to mention, _uncomfortable_…"

Tense silence filled the air, and Linda prepared herself for Tracey to really….

"_snicker_"

…Laugh!

The nervous air burst as gales of laughter descended upon the two, drawing annoyed stares from the other customers.

"Hey I had to lighten it up, you looked like you were gonna have a heart attack"

"Really…I never can tell when one crops up thanks to you."

"Well, I checked anyway…ooppps!"

"Hey! What!" Tracy said looking down at herself.

"Hey sorry, didn't mean to scare you" Linda said grinning. When her friend didn't so much as glance up from her self-examinations, she added, "I'm pretty sure I didn't leave any holes, you know."

Tracey stared at her friend, concerned. Linda was rarely if ever, light hearted about anything. _Especially_ regarding her powers. Always concerned about saving the world was her boo, always stoic about those she couldn't save. Living inside her own head, impossible to reach…Linda lost the carefree happiness Tracey remembered from their youth.

Tracey couldn't remember the last time she had seen her Kryptonian friend laugh. And smelling, as she could, a Linda Lee-Davers cover-up from a mile away, she was not in the mood to indulge her friend's evasiveness. She knew her too well to be so shallow. Something was _really _wrong.

Tracey, not to be railroaded, beseeched Linda to tell the truth. "Seriously girl, what's up?"

"What… Look it's nothing. I'm happy, just floating along with…happiness. See.."

Hand on her hips, Tracey turned on her friend. "No, what I _see_, is someone who's unafraid to face off against evil villains weekly, but terrified of her own self and letting others get to close. Other than me, Dave, and your Dad, who else knows you, really knows you?" Kara held Tracey's glare for a second, then looked away, slightly abashed.

"It's tough I know, but it's also getting really stale. And you can't keep doing it to yourself, cause pretty soon, you're gonna start alienating the friends that you do have."

Kara didn't like the sound of any of that, not just because it hurt. But she knew her friend was right, and she wasn't sure if she was ready to deal with it all, especially on her day off.

"Whatever, can we just drop it…Hey", one particularity obnoxious, overly dressed customer sped past her with barely a glance, knocking her bodily, into the display beside her. Eyes following him as he left the store, she swore under her breath, before detangling herself.

Braced against the hat rack Linda hoisted herself to her feet. Forgettingher calmin the process, she gradually tightened her grip on the cold twisted metal, willing the tension out, relaxing as it left her body, travelling on the wisp of breath escaping in exhalation.

"Oh no…" the steel cylinder of the rack now resembled a crumbled toilet roll, and Linda jumped with realisation of how effortless the grip was. Resigning her secrecy with a sigh, she prepared to give Tracey the long awaited explanation.

"I'm sorry for not telling you sooner, I just didn't know what it meant" Tracey finally faced her, expectant.

"So you know what it means now...right? And be easy on me please, I've had _quite_ enough announcements for one day!" Mentally bracing herself for elaboration, Tracey was blown off balance when the reply came from a different direction.

"I _know_ what it means" Becky sauntered up to the two, hands on her hips, looking irate. Shocked in to silence Tracey and Linda looked at each other, then at Becky expectantly.

"These sizes would fit a beached whale which _means_ that all the good ones are gone". Pausing she stared at her friends white faces "Is something wrong?"

Exhaling held breaths Linda and Tracy relaxed. "We're just tired, it's been a long day". Unsympathetic Becky snorted "Well it's going to get longer because I just got to find that red dress in my size" pointing at a well dressed mannequin in the window.

"Well… stay if you want to, but we're leaving!" replied Linda, as all her nervous tension settled in the pit of her stomach, and bile retreated back down her throat. In silent agreement, the two exited the store in haste.

Pouting, Becky hesitated before catching up. "Wait up you two…Geez… Any faster and you'd be breaking the sound barrier…flying even ". Linda stopped dead in her tracks before realizing it was a joke. She didn't need to turn around to know Tracey stood tensely two steps behind. Collectively sighing, they turned at stood by the escalators in inpatient stillness.

_If only I could just go home and forget all about this situation…It's more than I can handle right now…Puberty, I can cope with, but complete physical mutation is cause for major angst…And where does my old alter ego, The Matrix, oh-great-and-knowledgeable-source-of my extra powers, got to do with any of this…It's been almost a year since we separated, but I still feel like…a dark shadow is looming…Closer and closer…_

Noticing a similar mask of worry mirrored on Tracey's face, realization dawned. _This is starting to affect those around me. I have to find out what it is, what I am now, and this emotion that I can't seem to shake…_

Anxious to explain before Becky caught up, Linda leaned over to Tracey, her voice tense "I don't know for sure, but the last time I felt like this, I almost died."

Pausing she shared a worried glance with Tracey.

"…I think something's coming…."

**

* * *

Yep, sing it with me: Bitch bitch bitch bitch Biiitttttcccchhhh! Ah, thank you, thank you. But please (wipes away a tear) no flowers- reviews are the_manna_ of the Gods, and I demand FOOD. Pwetty please (unnaturally wide eyes).**


	3. Heat Revisited

**Disclaimer: Yep, we all know the drill…Making no profit from this yada yada yada…Smallville, and Supergirl, and any other shows made mention of here, are the profit of those people who own them (grrrr, and How I hate them.) If _I did_ own Smallville, why in all of the wacky planets in our universe would I be doing this... :)**

**_Thanx to all who review the last time I posted: _**

**_Doza: Thank you. Yes Clark and Kara will be meeting soon- I just don't really know how yet (my muses stole all my ideas and are hiding someplace.) If you have any scenerios you'd like to see them meet it, then please, let me know...No, seriously...could you let me know? ;) You're awesome, and danke. _**

**_Jess: It's always nice to hear that a story has brought some joy to readers...Especially when two characters are more liable to get old before they actually meet on the show. Glad you like, and don't hesitate to tell me what you think of the next chapters._**

**_Heavenstar3: Thank You. Your review was very heartwarming and I was very happy that this story caught your eye- hope to hear from you again._**

**_And to everyone else (I pray) that reads this. Thanks so much. The story keeps on, keeping on because of you..._**

**_Onwards and upwards then..._**

* * *

CHAPTER TWO

_**COUNTDOWN: 12 DAYS, 5 Hours, 30 min…**_

* * *

Unacceptable.

The black briefcase closed suddenly in a resounding snap. It reflected its owner's mood, now still, back stiff, and frowning in displeasure.

"I'm sorry, I must have misheard you." Anger tinted his voice, his eyes slicing through the shrinking employee beside him. His features twisted, mouth disarmingly set into a fixed smile.

"This project was assured completion by Thursday week."

He stared directly at his companion then. "Is there a problem?" a dangerous undercurrent in his voice made the air chilly.

The technician began sweating. Profusely. "S-s-s-s-tage two is preceding less expediently that o-o-riginally anticipated" he stated, hating the evident stutter in his voice. But this man made him very, very nervous.

If this all went well, he would keep his job. If not, well… Lex Luthor was a very dangerous enemy to have.

Dr. Palmer's mouth felt like sandpaper. Employee's disappeared without a trace after landing in Luthor Corp's bad books. For less than trouble than what he was going to report.

He swallowed, fully aware of the executive's stare, piercing his head like lasers.

"Well, Mr Gordon, it's ahhh… the circuitry for the Caves." He pushed his glasses back from slipping off the bridge of his curved nose, in a well-practised gesture.

"What about it?" Gordon's irritation kicked up a notch. He knew, even before he got out of bed this morning that today was going to be a bad day. _Whatever this little creep is whining about, I'm going to have to report it._

"It appears the ground circuit and safety switches for the projectors and automated speaker system were not properly installed. It will take at least another two weeks to properly insulate the wiring before Stage three productions can commence."

Gordon stood very still, irritation-giving way to unchecked rage. At the firm, other employees checked themselves around him, knowing of his rather little tolerance to incompetence.

Surprisingly, it was this more than anything that kept him inside Mr Luthor's closest circle at Lex Corp. His superiors delighted to hear, during odd conversations, Gordon recount of an incident at college, where he shoved a broken pencil into the eye of a fellow study group partner, who lost the group a passing grade.

Gordon wished he had a pencil now. Instead, his eyebrow lifted in disapproval, and he calmly smoothed out the lines of his Armani suit. After counting to ten silently, he let out a breath before answering.

"_Figures,_" he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. His eyes narrowed into slits as the noises drew his attention to the multiple crews of hard hats milling around the site.

Dr Palmer squirmed under the stare, shrinking in significance as the Gordon's eyes lost focus, and attached onto background construction.

"How much has been completed?"

Palmer tried to sound as bright as possible, smiling wobbly. "Almost all wiring has been re-insulated, save the emergency lights. And the circuit breakers are on order from Metropolis Electronics."

Still unacceptable. And if Luthor discovered this latest blunder occurred on his watch…

"Can stage three commence on the current wiring installed?"

A flash of warning made Palmer hesitate before answering. "I…suppose…so." He swallowed at the violent gleam in Gordon's glare.

"Yes. It can. But…"

"Good. I want production on the building finished by Friday. You have two days,_ doctor_," he smiled, spirits suddenly rising again. Perhaps he won't be demoted after all.

Briefcase snapping shut, Gordon strolled back to his car, sliding into the soft leather of the driver's seat.

Palmer stood, shocked. Incredulously, he followed Gordon to the car, and rapped on the window.

Several terse seconds followed before his reflection slipped off the tinted glass, and Gordon's thunderous face came into view. "I was under the impression this meeting was over."

Palmer finally found his spine. "No sir, its not." Gordon's eyebrows lifted into the creases of his forehead.

"Sir, if we were to continue ahead with the project, then the wiring in the caves poses a major safety risk. Incomplete insulation measures and the absence of circuit breakers leave the complex open to frequent blackouts, not to mention the high risk of electrocution." He paused to draw an agitated breath.

"Activating any of the electrical devices in the caves becomes a life or death scenario."

Gordon watched the doctor with an air of aloofness, eyes cold. "Can, could, might. I don't hear any absolutes, doctor."

The black roar of the Mercedes filled the air as he keyed the ignition.

"It will proceed as planned. Do not presume to disappoint us." As the car speed into the distance, Palmer turned towards the main compound, slightly sick.

Gordon's threats still lingered in his ears. "It would be most unwise. Lionel Luthor doesn't take disappointment well. Think of your son. I'm sure you will do the right thing."

**

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER_…_**

Clark stood on the steps of Smallville High, hands in his pockets, waiting nervously.

"Hey Clark!". Pete Ross jogging up, his breath forming clouds in the late frost. Turning to watch his friend, Clark smiled.

"So…how have you been?"

"Good and you?"

"Been better" At Pete's expression Clark relented. "Actually I don't think I've ever felt worse".

"Having a hard time catching up with all the school work…" smirking, Pete continued "…or does it having something to do with a brunette, about yay tall, owns the Talon…?"

Pete's gaze drifted over to the schools entrance.

"So, has Lana come out yet? I assume you are going to talk to her," He whistled, his face a mixture of disbelief and doubt. "I don't fancy your chances…"

Clark's expression tightened, the afternoon sun showing the lines of worry etched in his face. Sparing a glance over at Pete, his face relaxed into a perceptive smile.

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" Clark looked over at his friend, eyebrows raised.

"Hey, you're the one who ran out on virtually everyone who cares about you. I'm just trying to lighten it up."

Noticing Clark's expression, he softened.

"Your parents went through some tough times, you know," Clark nodded, miserable. "It would have helped if you hadn't bailed on them, at the last minute" Pete couldn't help the anger that crept into his voice.

" Hey I know what I did, okay! Mum, and Dad…I left them," Clark choked.

"We no longer have a storm cellar and it's my fault. There's no need to rub it in!" Clark's temper flared, and self-loathing made his throat constrict. The memories were still too fresh in his mind, and the guilt was so sharp that it actually caused physical pain.

Clark couldn't help but wish he had stayed away. Only, his desperation to see his home again, to see Lana, was immeasurable…to hug his parents and have them tell him that everything was going to be okay...

Coming back to Smallville had been one of the easiest choices of his life…but it had almost killed him to see them again. To see the pain that his presence had caused them…the hurt in their eyes… _every time he looked at them he could see it …_it all seemed too much to bear!

Clark swallowed hard, and closed his eyes, trying to curb the images flashing through his mind.

Flash…

_ His father's expression on his return…He walked up the porch steps, heart pounding, and reached for the door handle, hands sweaty and trembling…the echoes of his footsteps on the kitchen floor…the house still…_

_ His room had remained untouched…clothes half out of the hamper…bed made…_

_ The storm cellar was now an empty lot…filled in with dirt, the carpet of grass…his basketball hoop hung lopsidedly, a souvenir from the explosion…_

Pete's hand landing on his shoulder brought Clark back to reality. He looked up at the Smallville High Banner, hanging over the entrance to the school, inviting students back from the autumn break. Welcoming him…

Clark turned to his friend, who was now scrutinizing him with concern. "You know, Pete, for a long time last year, I blamed myself for the meteor shower." Sensing a denial, he cut off the protest.

"Yes I know it wasn't my fault." Head falling, his gaze lying on the pavement, arms resting on his knees, he continued. "It was my dad that told me that it was _normal _to feel that way…that it was human." He fixed Pete with a bleak stare, his tone bitter.

"What do you think he would say now?"

Clearing his throat, Pete studied his friend's expression, heard the unspoken pain behind the words, and said the only thing he could.

"Clark, your parents are good people. And they love you, man. You know that if your Dad can overcome his loathing for the Luthors enough to be Lex's best man, then you can get through it. Its just, one day at a time."

"But what if things are never the same again between them? Pete, all they had through all of this is each other. Now that the baby's gone, its like their last chance for a normal life has gone too. And I did that to them. It 'll never happen because of me, and what I am…I …don't know…how to save them from…that!" Clark finished, staring at his friend, as utter depression and hopelessness took grip.

Pete mulled, at a loss for words. "Clark man, I have to say that life really hit you with a two-by-four on that. But pause for a minute and think" he pointed out realistically, "you can't fix everything. Especially not this."

Clark stood suddenly, anger burning its way through his veins. "You know Pete, I've heard that before too. And do you know what I realise?" Pete shrugged, confused. "I learned, that the stuff that I can't seem to fix, is the most important."

Without warning, Clark took off towards Johnson's paddock, super-speed making him a blur to the human eye.

Pete, sighed, shaking his head in dismay. "The boy's got a lot of issues."

* * *

He ran…wind rushing past in waves… past the main road, tension leaving him as the world around him slowed to near standstill. Speeding through the paddocks of corn, glinting golden in the setting sun… the breeze making them bow down as he passed.

He ran until his breath came in gasps, and he stumbled, leaning against a tree as he struggled to inhale. Exhaustion and grief wrapped his lungs in a vice-like grip, and Clark sank to his knees, still grasping the trunk for support.

Gulping deeply, he opened his eyes to study his surroundings. The forestry was heavily wooded, and Clark was sure he had run halfway to Metropolis.

Shafts of sunlight pierced the canopy, and the occasional chirping of birds was the only sound for miles.

He remained crouched as he let the serene tranquillity calm his racing nerves. Minutes ticked by, as he willed the bile in his throat to recede.

Lurching into a standing position, he titled his head back against the tree. Tired eyes stared into nothing, and he wished for the second time that day, that he didn't have to return to the farm. _I could just rest here…forever preferably._

Shutting his eyes, fatigued at the thought of home, he chuckled darkly in acknowledgement that just holing up in the barn, his 'Fortress of Solitude', wouldn't be enough.

Brushing himself off, he staggered under the sudden blinding pain of a headache. Eyes burning he stumbled over a fallen tree as his heat-vision kicked in uncontrollably.

Trees around the teen burst into flame following his gaze, as he felt waves of heat from the building fire, realisation dawning the he was no longer in control.

Shadows from the dying flame merged with that of the canopy, the chill of dusk heightened. But it held little responsibility for the icy grip squeezing Clark's pounding heart…

He was afraid, whirling out of control, as the deadly lasers etched lines of combustion throughout the clearing. Streams of thought ran rampant through the enveloping blankness of his mind, pleading, screaming at himself to regain control.

But he was frozen, unable to react or stem the fires from his eyes, watching helpless as he destroyed all he saw.

_Oh God Oh god oh god oh god oh god…stop it, can't make it stop…_

Closing his eyes quickly, Clark staggered up onto his hands and knees. Confused and blinded, the vice around his lungs returned with a vengeance, rising panic causing flashes of red against ebony vision. The heat built up behind the closed lids in a fiery crescendo. Beads of sweat broke out on his brow, now furrowed with intense concentration as his mind sharpened through the blanketing darkness.

Waiting, his stomach twisted in knots…his own harsh breathing filling his ears, willing the feverish symptoms to pass…

It was several minutes, stretching out like hours, before he felt the burning behind his retinas extinguish. Through clenched teeth and methodic breathing, his hearing pricked at the damp crackle of the smouldering trees around him.

Grasping out blindly Clark hands searched the air for a handhold. Reaching out into the black nothingness, he jerked in surprise when his right palm brushed fabric.

"Who's there?"

"It's ok son, take my hand" Unsure of the strange rasp-ness of the voice, Clark hesitated before reaching out. Jerked to his feet, he slowly opened his eyes, a weathered old face filling his vision.

"You ok?" Clark nodded, unable to speak, rattled by the experience. A black shaggy dog trotted over to Clark and licked his hand.

"_Hey boy_…" the Labrador's onyx fur was smooth to the touch, and the animal growled contented, as Clark scratched behind its ears.

The hermit persisted. "You spend a lot of time out in the woods by yourself, kid?"

Clark bristled before answering, his voice returning with a flush of anger. "The names Clark, and no…"

"Then, you care to explain to me whatcha doing staggering around _my _woods?" The voice held a note of suspicion.

"Your woods…what …these woods are public property, so nice try. What are you doing out here?" Clark said warily.

The old man paused, fleeting amusement lining his face, and he stared down at Clark grinning. "You always talk back to your elders, kid?"

"Its Clark, and I wasn't talking back, just asking a question. Do you always avoid answering questions like that?"

"You got me kid, I've lived here all my life…just me and my dog"

"What's his name?"

"I dunno, but he answers to anything, …mainly though I call him Sully."

"Sully? Interesting name for a canine!"

"Don't be smart mouthing me kid" the hermit's tone was tinged with stung pride, as he continued reluctantly.

"Mostly the dog picked it. Seems to like it too."

Clark stared at the man questioningly, but he barely raised his head in acknowledgement. _This is one weird old guy, even by Smallville standards._

Sparing a glance down at the dog, now curled up, asleep at Clark's feet, he snorted. "Damn mutt. Sometimes he'll snarl and bark like he wants to maul ya…and others…" He stared at his slumbering companion, and Clark swore he saw fear in the man's eyes. "To friendly for his own good. Can't do that in these parts!"

"Why not?" Clark inquired, his curiosity spiked.

"Strange things been happening…. people doing weird things…" the hermit eyed Clark, now glancing uncomfortably at the ground.

"Yeah, about the fires," clearing his throat, he searched his mind for inspiration. Spotting the rectangular bump in the hermit's front pocket, he smiled ruefully, before assuming the guiltiest expression he could muster.

"Well, you know…just searching for a quiet place to light up…and I kinda dropped the lighter on my shoe." At the hermits disbelieving facial expression he continued. "Then I sort of…kicked it off my shoe near the base of that tree…and poof." Noting the hermit's unrelenting stare, he forced a rueful smile and finished the lie.

"Before I knew it the breeze had caught the sparks from one and they hit those clump of trees over there." Pointing to the remaining trunks still crackling, he swallowed anxiously, hoping that the old man was more gullible than his appearance led Clark to believe.

Silence pervaded over the woods for several minutes before the hermit spoke, "You should get yourself home now kid…it's getting dark already".

Clark blinked, clearly confused. He expected more questions, or at least a sound warning, but instead…nothing. It was only when he caught the man's grin he understood. And he knew the old man understood. Whatever he wasn't telling him was his business, and the hermit didn't really care. Turning his head to stare at the ground, he too found a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

_For once I don't have to worry about people not believing me. Cause he doesn't care, just as long as I don't bring any trouble with me…_

Rising, he caught a glimpse at the sun setting over the forest, and remained motionless in awe…watching the dazzling array of colours. Composure, so alien a concept in months past, crept into his muscles, long tense with stress.

He remembered then, the old man. Turning, he chastising himself for forgetting to ask the vital question that only now surfaced, delayed by his frazzled nerves.

"Hey! What's your na …huh!".

His companion and the dog had vanished into thin air. Confused he scanned the trees, and squinting in concentration, triggered his x-ray vision, but to no avail. Not a living soul for miles. Brow furrowed in disbelief, he retrieved his backpack, noting the now missing sandwich leftovers.

_Robin Hood has left the building_. _And I should leave too, I guess. _

Reluctantly shouldering his backpack, he scanned the forest once more before turning for home. The experience left him drained and shying away from using his usual means of travel, he sighed, bracing himself for the long walk home…

* * *

"What have you got for me?"

Pete sauntered into the Torch, completely at ease.

Bathed in the otherworldly glow of the computer screen, Chloe frowned at the interruption.

"You know Pete, civilities like knocking or formal greetings are not unheard of in modern society" her tone was brisk and clipped, almost intimidating except for the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"Well then, excuse me, Miss Sullivan," Pete revised, not missing a beat. Drawing up to his full height, an unimpressive 5 foot 5, he continued, accenting his speech with snotty British tones. He puffed away at an invisible cigar as he circled the terminal to stand behind her.

"How is the weather, inside the Torch? You seem in a _spiffing_ mood this afternoon. By the way, have you any news on what I asked you about?"

Chloe sighed in agitation, hands frozen mid-type. "For the last time Pete, I _do not_ have Sarah Limburg's phone number! And no," she protested, catching the sneaky gleam in his eye, "I will not help you use a Torch computer to break into the Town Council's files to find out!"

Pete heaved a huge theatrical sigh, and Chloe was sure his shirt buttons would pop off from the strain.

"Chloe, I understand that your compassion for your friends in lacking somewhat, you don't care about my feelings, you won't help people with their relationships and," he paused to stare at her a moment, "you don't seem to be listening at all to a word I've said…"

"Huh! What! Did you say something Pete?" Swivelling the chair around to face her long-time friend, she almost missed his fleeting look of irritation.

"Sorry Pete deadlines at 5, I've got copy to edit and I'm too busy to worry about your relationships, whether its about the flavour of the week or not!"

"Hey, my social life does not bear resemblance to an ice cream truck!" Sneaking a hopeful glance he added, "I really need a raise to put up regular attacks of character."

Chloe's resulting glare was almost enough to silence him.

"Oh, wait, that's right. The illustrious Torch does not _believe_ in paying dues, or letting them quit unless they start developin' an affinity for mismatching plaid, and a horrible way with women… "

He could not see the wetness glistening from teardrops that Chloe refused to let fall, or the grimace of pain at the sting- so unexpected.

"So, what are you working on? Or should I just leave you alone to compose tomorrow's lunch menu?"

Sniffling, she turned her head to her notes, back stiffening in response as she scanned the copy, hoping to appear as hurried as she felt. Silence rang through the Torch, broke only by the shuffle of papers.

Chloe was hurt. A little. She would never admit to it, of course. Too close, the old wounds still ebbed with pain unrequited. Every day was another step to forgetting, and Chloe awaited the time when Clark was not a slightly sore subject of denial and conflict.

She had been trying to forget, and remembering the huge leap of faith it had taken to let Clark rejoin the Torch, Chloe swallowed, confused and conflicted. The past was still a little painful,but it was over, the future uncertain, leaving Chloe in the present, an accursed place of swinging misery and recovery. The plaguing doubt cast deep shadows.

Deep in thought, she started as a sudden movement signalled from close behind her, and reflexively she tensed. When the settling squeak of a swivel chair echoed comically throughout the room, she straightened, letting out the rushed intake of breath from the scare.

"Don't do that Pete," bristling, Chloe was less than amused at the jerking slap on the back he had just given her.

"Sorry" sarcasm practically dripped from the word, as Pete scooted in closer, much to Chloe's chagrin. After studying the screen, he spared her a glance, eyebrows knotted in confusion.

"Since when is deceased foreign exchange student on the menu?" He leaned back into the chair, amusement lighting up his features.

"Although it would explain this week's Mystery Meat. Man that stuff is really not of this earth!" Making a face at the cafeteria's poorly presented specials and miserably expecting such meals to the end of the century, he missed the sidelong glance of suspicion Chloe threw him. After a few moments, he pulled himself out of his reverie, finding her staring at him, mildly curious.

Mentally kicking himself for using the words he had erased from his vocabulary after finding out about Clark, he rushed on. "_What_? It really is a waste of 2 dollars."

Still suspicious, Chloe let the subject drop. Whatever was on Pete's mind lately was odd, but could wait until she sorted out this latest mess with her then-benefactor, Lex Luthor.

Truthfully, she had grown uneasy concerning the business tycoons affiliation with the Torch. _More than uneasy_, she recalled, shifting uncomfortably as her previous attempts at snooping were repeatedly discovered, quickly, too quickly.

Priding herself with good instincts, Chloe came to realise how much she ignored them of late. And pertaining to the elusively introverted Mr Luthor, they were screaming at her.

"Hey, Mission control to NASA space shuttle. You are reaching the stratosphere …Yo, Chloe." Resting an elbow on his knee, he snapped his fingers persistently in front of her face, without success. Sighing, annoyed, Pete switched tactics.

"Chloe…Are you going to answer the question or do I need to do mouth to mouth?"

"Just you try it Casanova!" After a moment of tense silence, the pair couldn't contain it, and cracked up with good natured laughter, terseness forgotten

"Ok I'll tell you …I've been searching the police reports for any leads on the Brandon Müller case, the one several weeks back"

"The suicidal foreign exchange student! That was two weeks ago, Miss- If-It's-Five-Minutes-Old-It's-Not-News." He leaned over to catch a glimpse of the screen "Gettin' a little lax, huh?"

"_No, _I've been busy-there IS a difference. But Pete, just _look_ at the facts." Excitement coursed through her, and Chloe quickly switched into her journalistic mode. Turning to her computer, she brought up her Wall of Weird database.

"I ran a check on his psychological profile from the school counsellor's database, which, by the way, was took so long to transfer from his previous _Grundschule_ in Munich. Nowhere does it mention psycho-schizophrenic tendencies, let alone a history of suicidal behaviours."

Pete sighed as he recognised the look on Chloe's face from every other time he and Clark had shown up with a new freak of the week mystery.

"Chloe, there's more to a guy tossing himself of a freeway overpass than just his mental profile. Look at all the magazines today- all boasting that all teenagers suffer from chronic depression at some point. Maybe he was sick of the lunchmeat, or his little frau back home sent him a 'Dear John' letter. You don't need to be a psychopath to be depressed with life."

"I am somewhat familiar of the inner working of the teenage mind-I do have one myself, you know! But according to my sources at the morgue…"

"What a minute…sources at _the morgue_? Since when? I thought you just broke into the place to…"

"Pete! Please, believe me when I say I have a network of sources, and do not need to resort to breaking and entering to secure evidence."

"Okay… Justin Gains, Mr- Artist turned American Pyscho…"

"Source. And don't even mention that ma…movie"

"_Okaaaayy…_The lead on the meteor freak, Dr. Hamilton…"

"Source, again Pete!"

"Alright…Lana's gilled attacker, Mr "Swim-fan" Pollen…"

"You knew that one was a source!"

"Ah, sure. Now say it with me Chloe, "Five to ten in Juvenile Hall adds colourfully to resumes…"

"Only if you get caught Pete!"

Leaning over her desk, he grabbed the rubber spider he'd left there, and juggling it deftly, Pete sniggered. "And thanks to _your_ new Boss, the King of Waste Disposal, we're all getting lessons on how not to be caught."

Chloe's back tensed as she felt the long offending rubber spider bounce off the back of her head. _Uhhh, I hate spiders…_ "Pete, I've had it! I've told you a million times to keep that THING away from me…"

As she made a move to go for her staple gun, Pete flexed his arms and pushed away from the desk, staring at her languidly as she brought it to bear.

He smirked, knowing full well she would never use it. "You won't…"

"Oh, really?" She aimed, and fired, missing Pete's shoulder by inches.He blanched, and ducked, curling over himself in the seat. _Then again…_

He felt a flare of anger as Chloe launched another one, from across the room, laughing all the while. He flinched again, as the second staple breezed past his leg.

"Hey, Chloe, your aim's supposed to suck, remember!"

"Ha. Since when?"

Peeking above the desk he'd crawled behind, Pete ducked again as she sent another round over in his direction. Waiting for the telltale clicking sounds of the gun reloading, he chanced another sweep of the room before answering. " Since fifth grade, remember! Clark and I used to cream your butt at dodge ball!"

"Hey, buster- you were part of the 'Asses Clark Whooped at Dodge Ball' club too'." Chloe's tone betrayed hints of curious intrigue, as she continued. "As was the entire fourth and fifth grades, if I recall correctly …"

"Then it's a good thing that you can't recall correctly!"

Crouching down on all fours, Pete scurried between the desks, running through all he had learned from Pearl Harbour, and silently mulled over his options as another set of staples rained over his head. He whistled as they nailed the drawer next to his arm.

_ Think man, think! Damn Sarah looked fine today… One track mind, I curse you!_

Then remembering, he reached slowly under the desk, smiling as his hand brushed the rubber bristles of his _emergency_ spider. Pete smirked, his arm poised, ready to throw…

"Okay Chloe, I surrender. On three…One"

"Two…"

"Three…" said Chloe. Frowning, Pete realised her voice sounded a lot louder than it should be, and turned slowly, greeted by the sight of the staple gun aimed at head.

"_Truce_…Truce…I call a Mexican stand-off!"

"A Mexican stand-off traditionally has three people Pete. The rubber insect doesn't count."

"Come on, Chloe…Just cause you hate them don't mean you gotta be disrespecting my man Spidey's species." Pete glowered at Chloe, patting the fake spider in mock concern." Say arachnid- arrrr-aakkkk-niiiid! Easy."

Rolling her eyes, Chloe walked back to her desk, and to Pete's relief, dropped the staple gun. "Back to real business, Pete! You help me with this copy and I may find that phone number you're after…" Sneaking a furtive peek over her shoulder, Chloe almost laughed at the outright conflict that crossed her friends face.

Pete was not an idiot. He knew exactly how much work went into prepping the Torch's evening edition. No mean feat.

However, he _had _seen Sarah give him suggestive winks all through Biology…_damn reproductive lessons, no good for anyone's state of mind…_ and couldn't prevent the beaming grin that tugged the corners of his mouth.

_Hmmm…Sarah…Spend three hours sorting out copy…Sarah…Three hours of copy…Argggghh. _"Ummm…yeah, fine…"

As they both settled back into the task ahead, Chloe spared a glance at the Wall of Weird. Wondering at all the weirdness that Smallville was, she turned back to Pete, her tone anxious.

"Seriously Pete why would someone with vertigo jump off an overpass…?"

* * *

**Yep- I did notice the mistake. There's no way that the entire first half of a season can be squezed into two days. So I'm saying upfront- I am an _idiot_ (ooppps). Okay, in this universe, which takes place around end of season two start of season three, Clark only went away for one or two days before his Dad brought him back. Chloe doesn't know about Clark, but Pete does, and Lana and Teage-boy haven't gotten together yet (yes I don't like him). **

**And that's about it, so far...**


	4. Something Wicked This Way Comes

**Disclaimer: Yep, we all know the drill…Making no profit from this yada yada yada…Smallville, and Supergirl, and any other shows made mention of here, are the profit of those people who own them (grrrr, and How I hate them.) If _I did_ own Smallville, why in all of the wacky planets in our universe would I be doing this... :)**

**Hallo hallo again. The next part is entirely new- a new character, and a new development ensue. _(Oh, and by the by, try to guess which little cameo, not quite a cameo character from another series was oh so subtley dropped). _**

**Enjoy...

* * *

CHAPTER THREE**

SAME DAY…

_

* * *

Oh, no._

This wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening. _No way. Not now!_ Trembling hands gripped the paper unsteadily. The words blurred slightly and he swept one hand up to swipe at the sweat gathering on his brow.

Closing tired eyes against the thundering in his temples, the man sat back into the leather of his desk chair, frustratingly exhausted and emotional.

_Not Brandon!_ Reaching out for the glass tumbler off to one side, the man poured himself a hefty amount of scotch into a chipped, novelty mug, with a disturbingly chipper squirrel adorning the side.

_ Bloody awful. _He grimaced at the design, and sculled the fiery liquid in one desperate gulp before turning back to the disarray of paperwork littering the desk in front of him. Smiling sardonically up at him from his latest novel, his own profile stretched across the cover page of the latest manuscript, '_Do you know where you kids are? The occult in the average American's own backyard'_.

_Another bloody controversial flop, no doubt! Bloody American's and their berk-ish ideas on the supernatural. Fraught with commerciality and completely unaware of the dangers surrounding their daily colonialist lives! _

Professor Manners poured himself another glass, and glared down at his pseudo-serious reflection…one that now was barely a reflection of his now haggard appearance. Bloodshot eyes and rumpled clothing gave off the impression of many previous sleepless nights. True enough, he sighed, frustrated, that even his secretary had given up trying to get him to rely on more decent sleeping patterns.

Which is why a jerry rigged cot now took up the remaining space behind his desk. Along with the piles of books jutting up from the floors like random paper anthills, and framed posters of famous supernatural phenomenon lining the walls, it was little wonder none of his students ever paid his office a visit lately. _Except poor Brandon_.

As the alcohol induced fog flittered into his brain, already beyond a state of pure exhaustion, he ground the heel of his hand into his eye, rubbing at the grit, and sleep, and encroaching darkness surrounding his vision.

"Mr Manners, ss-sir, "hesitantly, his assistant, the plump Mrs Burch, ducked a timid head inside the doorway adjoining their offices. "There's mail here for you and…"

He peered up at her from his chair, sighing "Yes, thank you Sylvia. Just leave it on the desk please." _Timid little mouse, that one. _

Amused, he watched as she toddled into the mess of his office, dropped the brown wrapped parcel on the only free space on the smooth mahogany counter, and scurried out again.

Tentatively, he eyed the package before reaching across to bring it right in front of him. Quite possibly, judging by the telltale rectangular size of the thing, the manuscript he'd sent away for had finally arrived. . _About bloomin' time too! _

Padding down his jacket, he found the reading glasses tucked snugly in his pocket and slipped them on to the edge of his nose, eyes still drawn to the parcel. _Rupert, I do hope you've sent me something useful this time. _

Another soft cough at the door brought his bespectacled gaze up again. "Yes, Mrs Burch," he sighed, her timidity sorely testing his patience. "What is it now?"

"There's a student here wanting to speak with you…and I.I.." Cutting her off swiftly he turned his attention back to the desk, unconcerned.

"Mrs Burch, tell the student that my consultation times are from 2 til 3 pm Monday afternoons. Today is not, as I'm sure you are well aware, Monday. It's Tuesday. Tell them to try again next week, or, and here's a unique thought, consider e-mailing me first and save themselves the fuss. Good day."

That set her running. _Oh, well, I'm not in any state to for a q&a session, anyway. _His breathing hitched, and he knew before seeing it, that this just might help him solve the mystery he'd been researching. Fingers hovered hesitantly before ripping the brown wrapping aside, to stare excitedly down at the gleaming gold cursive monotype of the title.

_Giles, I could kiss you._ Grinning broadly, Manners let out a triumphant yell before, settling into a scurry of activity gathering up the necessary paperwork and items needed for what was to come next.

_Now_, he thought positively, _Let's go stop this monstrosity before it begins._

* * *

Out in the hallway, Mrs Burch smiled warmly at the anxious young man sitting across from her. "I'm awfully sorry, Mister, um Sir, um…"she flustered, face settling down from a previous shade of crimson.

"Sullivan, Dave Sullivan. I go to school here," he supplied, relaxing slightly in the motherly atmosphere of the office. "Is Professor Manners able to see me?"

She smiled again, although comfortingly this time. "I'm sorry dear, but Mr Manners is currently indisposed at the moment and requests…"

The pair of them both jumped, startled, at the high-pitched yell that sounded from the office next door. Completely unsettled, Dave hurriedly reached for his bag and practically bolted from the chair.

Before speeding out of the office, he spared a grateful glance back at the timid secretary. "Maybe, next time, I'll just e-mail him first, eh?" and ran out into the corridor as quickly as was humanly possible.

Silently composing herself all the while, the timid Mrs Burch settled back in behind her desk, tapping out a stucco rhythm on the computer keys as she sighed.

"Yep, get's the little suckers every time."

* * *

"Hey, George... Surf's up man!" Troy Palmer, 22, and still as mature as he was at age 10, balanced, arms pin wheeling as he walked the safety railing on the complex's second floor.

He'd been dirt biking through the glade since high school- and it seemed to everyone at the construction site that morning that not much had changed since then. Still revelling in the attention seeking daredevil stunts that earned him an expulsion from Smallville High. And, much to his parent's disapproval had grown into the pranks, rather than out of them.

Nobody took them seriously much anymore. Friends like George, milling around the stacks, who watched the crowds drawing a breath as Troy pretended to loose balance for a split second, only to straighten up with the goofiest smile plastered all over his face.

_If his father catches him doing that…_ George resisted the urge to tell Troy off. It was an impulse that he squashed often around him.

_ Mr Palmer will not be impressed_.

Troy's father, as a sign of good faith during the Luthor Corp construction on Glade, was to land the pair hardhat positions for the month, pulling strings like nobody's business. The old doc thought Troy would improve with something to distract him. George, however, thought it was pretty damn naïve.

But, then again, concerned parents were like that.

It was concern that George shared. After the recent divorce, the police had escorted Troy home twice since August, simply shrugging off the lectures and firmly insisting that he was not the suicide jumper they had been called for.

All of this did nothing for his reputation around town either. Lately he'd been practically living at George's tree house.

Luckily, his parents didn't ask. They were being filled in on the same rumour mill that was feeding the town. Poor kid- Mother ran away with Dad's Associate, don't ya know? My boy says he was expelled for setting fire to the principal's car…

George merely sipped his coffee, and rolled his eyes as the construction workers behind him broke into raucous laughter as Troy mimed the Macarena, still clinging on for dear life to the rigging supporters.

Suddenly a man looking very out of place in a laboratory coat pushed his way to the front of the crowd. George, halfway through his coffee, choked as the hot liquid flew down his air pipe._ Oh shit_.

Dr Palmer watched, frozen in disbelief as his son jumped from the balcony, landing squarely in front of the crowd, and bowed to wild applause.

Troy grinning broadly jogged over to a nervous George, unaware of his father's thunderous gaze fixed on the pair. "Dude, was that the biggest rush or what."

George's dark skin flushed, his eyes darting from Troy to Dr Palmer as he approached.

"Ah, Troy…" _Look around you putz!_ George's throat felt like he had swallowed barbed wire, the coffee making little difference as he gulped it down, and prepared to run.

"I tell you, I could've stayed up there all day." The glint in his eyes dimmed as he noticed the change in his friend's expression. Even as the question was on the tip of his tongue, he felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle.

"That would NOT be a smart idea, young man." Troy could feel his Dad's anger burn through the back of his jacket. He locked a silent glare on George, before turning around. _Thanks for the warning, buddy._

Thoughts raced rampant through is head, calmly meeting his father's expression as he cooked up his latest excuse. _Oh crap._

Dr. Palmer was angry.

George knew it.

Troy knew it.

Even the construction crews that darted around them to their work stations kept their heads bowed, as they rushed to appear busy in the midafternoon hustle.

It was probably this atmosphere that made Troy's retort cause George to pinch the bridge of his nose, and his father to turn a dangerous shade of purple.

"Look, _Dad_, if you make so much money off jobs like these," Gesturing the construction behind them, Troy locked eyes with his father, "then I'm sure you can afford a nice anal retrieval operation to lose the foot long pole you have crammed up your butt."

He finished cockily, smiling at his father, eyebrow raised in challenge. A red flush had crept up George's forehead, and he felt it disappear into his hairline as he almost turned around and hit Troy himself. _Troy, you are a miserable, psychotic little idiot_!

Son and father stood, locked in silent battle for several terse seconds. Then, in a disturbing change, Dr. Palmer smiled maliciously. "Troy, I appreciate your opinion."

The two boys shared a look of pure confusion. George paused mid-turn, surveying Troy's apparent unease, slightly disturbed at the out of character response.

Curiosity pulled them back to Dr Palmer. Troy couldn't help it, and attitude overrode self-preservation again. "Are you on medication?"

His father continued, ignoring his son completely. "Fine then, boys. Grab your hard hats and follow me please." Troy and George watched Dr. Palmer's retreating back as they bent to retrieve their hard hats, forgotten in the mud. They rushed to catch up with him, the dirt cementing to their shoes from their heavy treads.

Only one thought came to Troy as they bee-lined for the elevator to the caves. He felt it flash in mind like a neon warning sign.

_Sometimes, I just don't know when to shut up_.

* * *

"Man I swear that you don't know when to shut up!" George blew the sweat from his eyes, puffing as he set the seventh crate down on the pallet. He winced as he heard his back crack as he straightened, and stretched his aching arms behind him.

"I still think we got off easy."

He didn't need to turn to feel Troy's glare across the room.

"Speak for yourself." Troy muttered, the headache behind his eyes pounded as he surveyed the tangle of wires at his feet. For the last two hours, rewiring the speaker system had required every ounce of Troy's attention. Even now, he grimaced as he realized he'd barely made a dent. Desperately, he wished for the sneaky little voice in his ear to shut up; the urge to just ditch the job, was tempting enough to make his mouth water.

Troy felt George limp over to stare at the motherboard, whistling softly. "I'm just saying. It could've been wor… Oh, never mind," Troy turned to glare at him, and George shrank back a little, slightly guilty that his work was finished. "Guess I'll be helping you then."

"Damn straight you will." Shocked to hear the hostility on his voice, Troy relented. "Please." He sounded desperate, tiredness stripping away any sarcasm.

Sighing, George shook his head. He really wanted to get home to bed. But he couldn't just leave Troy with all of this…Glancing over at his friend's face, worn into creases, he gave in.

_Don't do it. He's just using you. What other use as a friend are you?_

Mid bend, he felt his arm stiffen trying to grab the pliers. George's face flushed, neck craning around, as if the source of the voice was near. "What the hell!" _I didn't think that._ He glanced over at Troy, now levering open the second panel behind the motherboard. _Did I!_

Neck tingling, Troy glanced up, noting his friend's mouth hanging open slightly, eyes clouded with confusion, and something else…what was it? Like the wide eyed stare of a rabbit, caught in the trance of a snake. "You okay buddy?"

"Uhh…yeah. I'm fine." Plastering a fake smile, he grabbed clumsily for the wire cutters. "Let's get to work."

Setting to work, they were soon both elbow-deep in the multicoloured tangle. Glancing over now and then, they shared smiles, the competitive streak of both boys pushing them to out-wire the other.

Time flew by, and after a pause, Troy glanced down at his wristwatch. The hands were frozen on seven o'clock._ That can't be right_.

Irritated, he tapped on the surface, and then held it up to his ear, to ascertain whether it was really broken.

"Ahh, Troy…" He glanced up, recognising the same mixture of impatience and weariness in George's expression, marred with a scowl. "My watch has stopped. What time do you have?"

_Bizarre_. "Don't know. Mine's busted too." Silence pervaded the cave, and with a jolt, Troy realized that he could no longer hear the heavy buzz of machinery and the commotion of the construction site. The silence deepened.

George broke it. "Well, whatever time it is, we're done." Both looked down to see, that they had indeed finished; the last of the wires soldered in place.

Shaking it off, Troy recovered, "I guess, I'll screw on the panel." He sounded uncertain, slightly off put by the creeping shadow darkening the room.

It snapped shut, resounding deafeningly amongst the darkness. The entire room seemed to draw a breath, wind whipping through the cavern. The sudden drop in temperature raised goose bumps on both the boys' arms, cat's claws scraping down their spines.

At once, they sprinted to the exit.

"Why won't the lift work?" George dropped to one knee, elbow bracing his head, as he felt the throngs of an all-out panic attack.

"Not sure" Troy wasn't far behind him. His heartbeat pounding way too fast, echoing in his eardrums.

If it were possible, the room seemed to react to the boy's fear- darkening further still.

Troy jerked wildly, and his heart threatened to explode in his chest as the power ebbed in the overhead lighting- and suddenly, he was blind.

_Craaap. The main power grid is down. _Next to him, he heard his friend moan in despair.

"See Troy, I told ya…"

George was barely keeping it together. With his voice stuttering, he continued, a strain of anger evident in his tones. And Troy knew, that even though he couldn't see George, that the guy was about ready to punch him.

"This is the sort of shit that happens to a person with karma like yours."

"Shut up, man."

_"Come on. Where is it?"_ Pulling up the cave plan in his mind, Troy measured the steps between the emergency lights and the lift. He took slow, deliberate steps, and ran his hand along the cave wall for guidance. The chill of fear settled in his stomach, and instead of pin wheeling back to the lift, he concentrated on the rough, broken surface underneath his fingers.

_"There."_ Troy jerked back as he hit the cool smooth metal of the surface panel. Deftly he pried into the lid, and the panel gave way beneath his touch. Sucking in a breath, he mashed down hard with his right hand.

"Troy," George searched the dark for his friend. "Where are you? Did you find the switch…"Suddenly the room was illuminated with a blood red glow, and George felt his spirits lift at the metallic hum of the secondary generators whirring above their heads.

"Guess you did." George let relief wash through his mind, and for a second, while he was still processing this small victory, he was calm.

Troy, on the other hand, was already in motion. Striding to the elevator shaft, his fingers grabbed the wire mesh, and gave it a violent shake before searching the room again. Running a hand through his mussed hair, the desperation pulled him like gravity to the spot.

And then, there was that voice again. Whispering…

"_It's hopeless. You're never going to get out of here."_

"What the fu..?" His eyes swept the room, head turning to see if George had spoken. Completely unsettled, he rose again, and let out a breath. "George, there's no need to be pessimistic."

Rolling his eyes, George stepped away from the control panel, unable to locate the switch for the elevator emergency override. "And why is that?" As he crouched below the motherboard display, his voice was muffled as he let loose a stream of obscenities as his head hit the steel underside.

"Troy, if you know something I don't, please enlighten me. Because, otherwise, the most optimism I have in our escape, is saying, 'We're screwed', in a cheerful voice." Crawling out from the control unit, he continued.

"It's at least midnight. On Friday, which means we will be spending the weekend in this shit-hole of a cave. Not to mention the temperature drop, considering we're below ground, so it's going to get a lot colder." He was on a roll now, anger overflowing into words, and Troy took it with shoulders slumping further and further.

"And the emergency override, which we have been working on for the last…" he automatically checked his watch, then remembering threw his hands up in the air, and laughed in irritation. "God knows how long, has for some obscure reason, short-circuited. So, please, seat that DAMN optimism, because I'm sick of it." He plonked himself down next to Troy; anger spent, and sank with the weight of depression.

"Feel better?"

"Much, thanks".

The room had developed an echo, and suddenly the conversation was the only sounds in the large cavern. "This isn't that bad. But you know what we need?" He turned, a smile spreading on his face at George's look of complete disbelief. "Do you know?"

Recovering, George shook his head. "No, Troy. Other than a working elevator, what do we need?"

"A couple of beers and a stereo pumping out pure rock."

George smiled in spite of himself, and joined in. "The way you crank it, we were sure Mrs Hinch was gonna call the cops again."

Troy paused, and surprise flittered across his face as something stirred in the recesses of his mind. Fragments pulled themselves together and he almost cried in triumph. "Yesss!"

"That's it." He jumped up, and scrambled over to the motherboard, snatching up his pliers and powered up the system. George turned, slightly shaken by Troy's sudden mood change. "Have you lost it?"

"No. George, you are a genius."

"I am? Do you want to share something with the class?" He walked over to the panel, and noted suspiciously the order of operating systems, eyeing Troy with concern. Troy hit the power for the speaker system, and looked over, his eyes shinning.

"What's the best way to get the police called?"

Flabbergasted, George searched for an answer, his eyes still holding confusion. "I guess, create a disturbance!" He felt like he was in school again, hoping he'd answered correctly.

Troy reached for the volume and static control, excitement speeding his movements. "Yes! And since we have this huge speaker system at our disposal…"

"You wanted to crank the volume on this sucker, and hope somebody in the vicinity hears, and calls the cops," George finished, as his head jerked up with realisation, finally understanding. He spoke the next words with a slight irony. "Good idea."

"Thanks," Troy surveyed the motherboard with an air of finality, then turned to George, who stood several feet away. "Ready?"

Nervously, the pair shared a glance, before Troy turned back to the board. He donned a pair of headphones before instructing George to do the same. "Since there's no CD to play," he spoke loudly; with the headphone's muffling sound. "The machine should just play feedback."

Wiping his hands on his jeans, George nodded, and swallowed nervously. Troy's finger was poised inches above the button, and for a second, he hesitated. Steeling himself, Troy clenched his jaw, and pushed it.

Nothing. Both boys stood, eyes squeezed shut, tensely waiting. Troy popped one eye open and did a quick sweep of the room. Sighing, he reached for his headphones. "George, man, it didn't work…"

That's when the first soundwave hit the cavern.

The walls shuddered, and the pallets standing at the other end of the room, began to quake. A silent screaming filled the air, and pierced through the soft cushioning of the headphones.

It was metal on metal; a horrible vibrating that shook the two boys with such force they were thrown to the floor.

"Aaaahhhh!" The pain that was ripping through Troy's eardrums couldn't be explained. He doubled over, hands clenching his ears; the headphones were useless. Gasps of breath poured out his mouth, and he spared a glance over at George, whom he couldn't hear. His friend's mouth was stretched in a thin white line, and a small trickle of blood dripped out his nose.

Troy realised then, too late; watching his friend, eyes wide, that if they didn't turn the sound off, the stress would cause serious damage to their nervous system.

_"No, no, no.!"_ Struggling to his feet, he staggered over to the motherboard, everything in his body screaming, and he gripped his head with one hand.

Crazily he felt over the keyboard, pressing buttons at random, desperate to stop the noise. In one single moment, the glowing green of the main switch caught his eye, and before he knew what he was doing, he pressed it.

It was as if the entire room had sucked in a breath. Somewhere deep inside the motherboard, feedback collided and the wiring snapped.

As Troy's brain processed the information, and he saw the switches in front of him, flash and crackle, only one thought came through clear. "Oh shi…"

Time froze; a terrific thunder rang through the cave, as the motherboard exploded in a great flash of fire and light. Then there was chaos.

The wall behind the motherboard was obliterated; and shockwaves threw George clear of the pallets, into the elevator mesh. His neck snapped back, and he felt the back of his head tear open where then mesh and it connected. Sliding down, his legs were rubber as black spots danced in and out of his vision. He was out even before he hit the floor.

The cavern groaned, and rocks fell from the ceiling, splintering the pallets into bits that were then sent flying, embedding themselves in the walls. Heatwaves rolled like storm clouds through the air, and anything that wasn't on fire, began to superheat, and melt.

And all was quiet.

Sand trickled down from the ceiling, but the girders held. Black smoke was everywhere, and the only sound to be heard was the fires cracking over the remains of the speaker system.

A black stain covered the ground where the main switchboard once stood. Like an open mouth, was the wall that had been blown out, and Troy had been thrown through. Rubble built up around the entrance, and air rushed into the hidden cavern, sucked by a vacuum into the darkness beyond.

Then, a different kind of air filled the room. It woke, breathed and pulsed; visibly mirroring the slivers of green meteor rock found weaving in the walls of this ancient place. The glow lit up the room shinning an eerie light into the centre of the room.

Troy's body lay, broken and bleeding, vacant eyes staring up at the ceiling. His arms that stretched out to either side of him, were still, fingers frozen, mid- grasp. His chest was high, his back arced from where he'd landed on a bolder, and the spine had snapped.

The force coiled up and through the air above him like an invisible snake. As the glowing rock caught it in shafts of light, it pulsed green; gaseous.

Descending, the gas slithered over the rocks littering the floor. As it settled over Troy's face, the air seemed to grin maliciously. With a hiss, it entered his mouth and nose, and his chest lifted and fell, as it wove itself around his lungs.

For a second, the loud hisses emanating from Troy's body dimmed.

A loud rhythm filled the silence as his heart started again, and his eyelids closed. Gasping for breath, Troy awoke, jerking into a sitting position. Hunched over his knees, be breathed noisily, confusion written on every line of his face.

As he looked up now, his eyes gleamed; not blue but a strange green, too bright. As it wove itself around his brain, he jerked and twitched, shaking as the glow spread underneath his skin, into his fingertips.

It sat; frozen for a time that seemed an age; processing the information from the boy's brain. It found images, shadows; and words. It liked the shadows.

Casually, it stood, stretching to twist the spine into place with a sicking snap. Smiling, it looked down, and slowly took its first steps out of the cave.

As the boy's form broke free of the darkness, and stepped into the ruins of the main cavern, it let the smile grow; stretching unnaturally from ear to ear.

Tilting the head to one side, it surveyed the smoking remains. Drawing from the boy's mind once again; it accessed the parts for memory. Striding over to the Kryptonian display, it store through the railing, and stood still, eyes widening as it recognised the familiar script.

Its fingers twitched as they traced the surface of the key hollow. Images raced through its brain, and it perceived. "Yessss..."

Turning to the exit, it knew what had to be done. As it reached the elevator, it looked down on George's still form, and something akin to disgust removed the smile from its face. Kicking the body aside, it pulled open the mesh doors, and grabbed the cable.

Muscles corded in the boy's arm as it pulled itself up the elevator shaft. Without strain or effort, it paused, and glanced over its shoulder at the room. It spoke; one word filled with centuries of hatred.

"Numaaan."

It continued to climb.

* * *

**_What? _Oh, I hafta say something? Well (gagging to clear throat), hope you like the bad guy, yes it's kind of (but only a little) dark, and the next chapter will be lighter, I promise...Ha, ha ha. Fooled you...I promise _NOTHING_ (evil cackling). **

**Oh and please read and review, or I'll set Segeath on you (yes that is it's name.) Just kidding...maybe...**

**(P.PS. Did ya find it? yup, our intrepid plaid wearing Brit from...) He he, fooled you again. Wait and see.**


	5. Welcome To Smallville

**Disclaimer: Yep, we all know the drill…Making no profit from this yada yada yada…Smallville, and Supergirl, and any other shows made mention of here, are the profit of those people who own them (grrrr, and How I hate them.) If _I did_ own Smallville, why in all of the wacky planets in our universe would I be doing this... :)**

**I love Giles-yep, Buffy's watcher it was (and he may be back, depending on how the story goes). **

**Onto the story dear friends...**

* * *

CHAPTER FOUR 

_**COUNTDOWN: 10 DAYS, O Hours, 5 mins…**_

* * *

The Kansas Interstate was deserted. The night air was crisp and cool, and a soft breeze swept through the fields. A few crickets found sanctuary amongst grasses covering a low barbed fence, running parallel with the road.

Two headlights appeared in the distance, and the smooth roar of a car engine cut through the serene atmosphere. As it sped past the fence, a soda can arched and somersaulted in the air, landing squarely on a wooden post.

The few crickets that remained climbed up and inspected it. After some clicks and whirs, they jumped, disappearing in the wild underbrush. The car flew by, as unconcerned as a tank with a fly.

Occupied with two passengers, it was a vehicle best suited to freeways, handling the country roads with some difficulty. This, however, was not to deter the driver, a middle-aged Caucasian man, seemingly content with tapping his fingers and humming alone with the alternative music playing on the radio. But as the corner of his eye caught the movement, he frowned, features tensing into the familiar mask of disapproval.

"I've said it before. Do not throw trash out the window. You know where to put it!" The brisk warning was aimed at the sullen looking teenager occupying the front seat.

Playfully hitting her father harder than she intended, Linda observed the aftershock of it as her father was rammed against the driver's side door- a most objectionable result as the shock caused him to swerve off the road.

Thrown against the passenger side door, she felt her smile disappear, and the easy air of the car evaporated and flew out the window. Bracing against the armrest, she winced at the squeal of tires, as her violently jerked the wheels onto the right side of the road._Ooopps._

"…Oh, for Gods sake, Linda!" Mr. Lee-Davers swivelled, and as Linda saw her father's face, she _knew_ she was in trouble. With his features now contorted into a mask of rage, Mr. Lee-Davers let out his breath in a soft _hiss_, not unnoticed by his daughter, now cringing in the front seat.

Sure enough, she was not disappointed.

"Now listen and listen well. It has been a _long_ day, and I am NOT the mood for any crap from you." He paused, noting her anxious expression. And he breathed, his nostrils expanding from the annoyed slits they were moments before.

"I understand that you are…less that excited about the extended vacation to Smallville," He continued, his voice losing some of its ferociousness, ignoring his daughter's snort of derision.

"But this is a great opportunity for me, and a chance for us to start fresh for a little while; make new friends, and enjoy country life."

Catching Linda's expression, he added, "I saw that young lady." Transferring his attention between the road and his daughter, Mr Lee-Davers felt the frown deepen.

_Well, what did I really expect? That she would jump at the chance to get away from her problems, and spend quality time with her Dad? Lee, you are really starting to show your age... _

He sighed, deciding it was best to let the conversation end. Tomorrow will bring a new day, and as far as he was concerned, a fresh start was exactly what the doctor ordered.

Out of the corner of her eye, she observed her father's behaviour as his posture visibly relaxed, and settled into focusing on the road, stretching out into the night.

Also relaxing, Linda reflected on the days past. So far, all signs indicated his would turn out to be the decent escape her father wanted, despite instinct warning them against the unforeseeable.

Time passed, and he, in saying nothing put Linda in a ready mood to deal with the trip.

Not that she would ever really tell him so; Linda acknowledged uncomfortably, the alien and human forgotten as the teenager surfaced. Knowing her behaviour was a childish reaction; she twisted her body in the seat away from him, embarrassment causing her to find a distraction.

The stars with their glittering light, so clear away from the city, could prove distracting. She was, after all, amongst a handful of earthlings capable of understanding what it was, the pang in her heart as she looked up, and felt lost and alone in the universe.

She was the last of her kind, and thinking of it left her awash with confusion.

Staring out into the night, Linda tried to appear bored, and let the wind whistle her nerves into an elusive calmness. Her eyelids felt heavy, her head weighty on the elbow propped on the armrest as her gaze reached the sky. _Yes_, _any distraction is preferable than to bear the silence of the car for another moment_.

Automatically she searched the sky for the tiny spark that was home, scanning the familiar patch of night, eyes resting between the constellations Orion and Scorpio.

Breathing a sigh she was unaware of holding, she felt the tension leave like the fleeting moment it struck. _Strange it should be_, as she beheld the lone star, her eyes glittering as its presence released the light from within. _That my life should be so swayed, and I fell very comforted, by something so small, and so beautiful._

_ How everything that I have now, dwells on the shadow of a memory, a touch of a hand…a kind word, and soft sad eyes. _She smiled at the thickness in her throat as she swallowed, and alerted to the sure swelling of tears, felt the heaviness return. For no reason in particular, her thoughts returned to the mall, and her old worries.

Without realising, her grip on the armrest grew steadily, until she was gripping it with all the desperation of a life preserver. The leather creaked in protest, its stitches pulling and straining as it subjected to the enormous pressure of the grip.

Seconds ticked by until Linda gave way to the inane grin tickling her insides. Half the time she wondered whether this friction was an adjustment problem, or if the human took pleasure in simply pissing off the other.

_What does it matter? _A twinge of guilt rode on the laughter's end, feeding shame to the ever-increasing issue of the two halves, and Linda always questioned her right to be in control of the other. If there had been an RSPCA for multiple personalities, she suspected she would be on their enemy's list, and brought in for mistreatment.

Linda began to scowl again, and gave a passing thought to how long it was allowed for her to be happy. Once again, it followed with the old questions, more pressing, and their worries.

_This has got to stop_. She grew tired of these nagging thoughts and feelings. She was not a paragon of justice, and would not allow circumstance dictate how she should live- a teenager playing grownup.

_Let Gandhi and Tsun Su be martyrs to the common good_. Being an adolescent girl, with divorced parents and a multiple personality was tough enough- screw trying to race around cleaning up after others.

"Something wrong?" Her father had chosen the opportune moment to break the silence, reading her as well as she him.

Sighing, Linda opted for black humour, unwilling to burden her father with needless worries. _For all the good it would do to tell him anyway_. The problems wouldn't cease to exist once she told _daddy_.

"Just developing a sudden pitiful sympathy for Green peace, is all."

"Really? Is that what you wish to do after college?"

_Oh please!_ This time she really did laugh, gulping for air after several seconds.

"Yeah, I am ready to don a uniform and go out and save the world." Holding her sides, Linda acknowledged her father gratefully. "Thanks."

Mr Lee-Davers shrugged, and stared back at the road with a knowing air.

"You looked like you needed it." Worry crept into his tone. "It was pretty tense there for a while."

She stared at him, surprised, but prepared for what came next.

"Want to talk about what's bothering you?"

She didn't even have to look at him. "No," and tersely cut the conversation dead.

"Okay." Gripping the steering wheel tighter, he reigned in the urge to lean over and hug his daughter. She knew he cared and it wasn't the comfort she needed. Instead, he tried for light humour.

"You know, Lindy Lee, you might be better suited to Green peace than you like to believe."

Her head jerked up sharply. "What!"

"I'm serious. You love dolphins, remember?"

"Ha ha. I meant the other thing you said," she pressed.

"What," he swivelled in the seat, his attention curiously piked. "Lindy Lee?"

Smiling at the memory, she reminded him. "You haven't called me that since the sixth grade."

"Well, after about tenth grade, and prom, you just grew out of it," Mr Lee- Davers spoke softly, hiding the sadness of a parent that knows their child is growing away from them. "Your mother and I realised how much you needed to be treated like an adult."

A sign advertising "_SMALLVILLE, 5 MILES_" halted the talk, and tenseness filled the car once again. Slowly, Mr Lee- Davers braked the car and pulled over.

"Why are we stopping?" Linda questioned, wondering what she could have done to cause it. Seconds later, she discovered she needn't had bothered.

"Linda…" Stopping himself, Mr Lee- Davers stared out the driver's side window, thoughtful. Letting out a breath in O-formed lips, he seriously considered postponing this lecture until tomorrow. But it still needed to be said.

By now, Linda was slightly puzzled and a little bothered by his tone. "If it's not me or the car: what is it?" Suspecting it was a moment he revealed his problems; reading his expression prior may have foreseen it, but Linda knew that knowing and attesting verbally were very different.

Her father took this window, and tried again.

"Linda. I need to know, before we go any further," he gestured towards the road. "Whether you are okay with this whole trip?"

Linda frowned. Feeling like they were starting over old territory, and being truly sick of it, her reply was tainted with sarcasm.  
"It's a little late to be asking that, isn't it?"

"Linda, listen…" She didn't let him finish.  
"No, Dad. I am done with this conversation."

Mr Lee- Davers injected, angered. "I am not, young lady. And you will listen to me."

That got her attention.

"Now, you can sulk all you want. You can refuse to tell your mother and I what's going on," Sidetracked slightly, he added "Lord knows we're used to it."

"But that is where the leniency ends."

Subconsciously, Linda recoiled, and it was Tracey's voice she heard now. _Oooh! Girl he is_ mad_ at you!_

"You will attempt to enjoy yourself. Even if it kills you!" _Dad, you have no idea how true that is._

"Second, you will be civil while we are staying at your godmother's house. We will be her guests, and she is an old lady. You respect her rules and mind your manners." _Like the old bat would let me do anything else._

"And thirdly, you will attend the remedial classes we enrolled you in for the summer." _And I bet you and Mom argued that for a week. _

She sighed. This vacation was looking grimmer by the minute. _I should have stayed with Mom- she drives me crazy. But at least, she drives me crazy in civilisation._

"Understand?" His voice was softer, but Linda saw the way his back tensed, and knew he was treating her much the same a cop would- reasoning with a nonchalant, open air.

"Yes," dragging it from a well inside, she was irritated but resigned to being silently so. _Fine. Let him have his stupid 'working vacation', and I can occupy myself by flying down to Metropolis every weekend. _She closed herself off, crossing her arms in front of her.

Fortunately, he got the message. Which, she was grateful of, as the trip, especially this last hour had left her fatigued.

Although, a thought still plagued; her father could have lectured her once they had unpacked at her godmother's, so the question remained- why did he pull the car over now?

She almost hated asking- and unwittingly inviting more conversation.

"Dad. This could have waited until Cecelia's, so why…?"

And in a suddenly disconcerting manner, he smiled. "Oh, yes." Basking, he waited a beat before answering.

"Seeing how close we are to town, maybe you could drive this last leg of the trip. That is, of course, if you are interested?"

"Seriously?"

Her fingers found the armrest as she scrabbled out the door, almost falling face first onto the gravel. Vaguely aware of the spectacle she was making, the alien cringed in embarrassment, as with heels clopping, she rounded the hood.

Mr Lee- Davers dimmed the headlights as her highlighted figure bounced through them, so comically fast she almost hit the gravel again. He couldn't help but to laugh.

His daughter could stop a 747 mid-flight, without ruffling a hair. But driving…

_Graceful is certainly not the word to describe the moment._

Laughter stopped abruptly, as the driver's side door was yanked open, metal groaning in protest, and Linda stood; eyes glazed excitedly, panting. Slightly scared eyes shifted to her brown hair, now hanging lopsided over one eye, the part creeping dangerously close to her ear.

With barely a second, he climbed over to the passenger side, hands sinking into the plush leather of the seats, as Linda plonked down unceremoniously behind the wheel.

Grimly he dropped the keys into an upturned palm, eyes widening as she, without a thought, started the engine.

"Ahhh, Linda…"her father pointed out. "The door."

"Huh?"

She stared at him blankly, then followed his eyes to the driver's side door, gaping wide open. "Oh yeah."

"Belt."

"Indicator."

"Park brake." All the instructions did nothing to diminish the excited spark Linda burst with as she started gripping the wheel. Mr Lee was hesitant to bark orders at her, lest he break the easy mood that had suddenly sprang up between them. He missed being a father, guiding his daughter, instead of the other way around.

_Then again_… Mr Lee squinted his eyes as the screech of the tires hit his eardrums. He forgot that Linda, as public consensus would have it, was not the world's best driver.

_In your hands, O Lord, I commit my soul._

Mr Lee-Davers concluded if they reached Smallville without incident, it was due to a sort of divine intervention, and would return the gratitude by attending church every golfing Sunday for the rest of his life.

Not that he didn't possess unshakable faith in his daughter.

Oh no.

Not at all.

_I had better wear a seatbelt_. As it gave that relieving snap into place, his hands found themselves reaching for the armrest. And found it he did. Stitches pulled, barely attached to the passenger door, it looked completely demolished.

Completely bent, and not the first write off this car had seen, or the last. Linda's powers were becoming an overblown mess that she could no longer keep to herself. She hated involving them, he knew.

But he hated it more.

He saw what it did to her, the innocent ones who watched and died, and the overall stress of fighting alone was breaking her. He knew what greeted her if she continued; she would snap like twigs on the New York sidewalks in autumn.

The stress was not something he had ever wanted for her- and yet here it was. And she was stumbling under the weight of it.

And that was the truth. Laid out in all its simplicity.

A startling moment of clarity, which in fates own twisted way, had brought about this moment, now. That afternoon, he applied for a temporary transfer, and went home and apologised to his daughter.

And now, suddenly, between that moment and this one, here they were.

He reached over, hesitated, tugging Linda's wig so the explosion of blonde tresses burst outward. The wig now sat between them, looking similar to the form of a small animal.

He stared for a few more seconds, and then his eyes ticked up to her face.

"Thanks." The briefest of nods, then her eyes darted back to the road. She didn't want to feel irritated by the gesture, but the symbolism was still there. For the remainder of the vacation, she would have to content herself with being blonde.

The radio crackled and Mr Lee- Davers fiddled the knobs as he sipped on a thermos cap steaming with coffee. Her eyes paused on the coffee and he shook his head.

"No, you're already hyped up enough as it is."

Letting a smile spread she wiggled into the seat, comfortably braced as she challenged the darkness ahead.

_Ready or not, Smallville…Here we come._

He sipped.

She smiled. And drove.

* * *

The bed creaked, and Clark tossed again, restless. Images invaded his dreams- stars, roads, and…eyes, cornflower blue, piercing his core. But, comforting.

His eyes flickered beneath the eyelids as calmness washed through him. It relaxed him, and sleep found its way back into his limbs, growing heavy with fatigue.

He mumbled, and smiled into the pillow.

* * *

**Another short-ass chapter- Sorry sorry. My muses are still hiding my notes, and I don't know where to find them (why does that sound eeirly like a nursery rhyme...Ah, who cares! Start reviewing to tell me how Clark and Kara should meet...**

**A. Fighting a mutant of the week. **

**B. At school. **

**C. At the Talon, after school. **

**D. Catching each other out using their powers. **

**You decide...Cause I can't .**


	6. Dreams and Introductions

**_Disclaimer: Yep, we all know the drill…Making no profit from this yada yada yada…Smallville, and Supergirl, and any other shows made mention of here, are the profit of those people who own them (grrrr, and How I hate them.) If I did own Smallville, why in all of the wacky planets in our universe would I be doing this... :)_**

**_Yes, this chapter has been facelifted. Lex Luthor is now in the story...Yeah!_**

**_Still collating all the reviews (if any). So far the best response is...ha ha, not telling you..._**

**_Segeath: Must findand kill annoying ...author...grrrr..._**

**_Oh oh. Gotta split...See ya..._**_**

* * *

**_

COUNTDOWN: 9 DAYS, 12 Hours, 30 mins

Rationalising is usually something some people do every so often, unintentionally or not. Every day, almost the entire population of the planet will face ups and downs, rationally accepting both with each other. Lex Luthor, however, didn't believe in the power of positive thinking to lighten a situation.

In fact, he didn't usually wait for any kind of explanation of a bad situation, at all, before acting. And for most people, action in any Luthor's book usually meant dropping the proverbial axe…or literal one, depending upon his mood.

At, LexCorp it was a given to suddenly notice the disappearance of a colleague, only to see them replaced by the day's end. Employees adopted a military policy in these instances- neither acknowledging nor mentioning those no longer employed, or alive, to anyone else. What they did outside of work in that regard, was their own business, as far as they knew, anyway.

And so, the call that had awoken him from his early morning slumber was certainly, not a great indication of rationality- the voice on the other end of the phone stuttering, ever-so-slightly, about the recent mishap to befall LexCorp.

That in itself, was nothing out of the ordinary-quite the opposite in fact; business as usual. Lex took the call, calm and reserved, sternly informing the help that early hour calls were to be kept on hold, or unanswered, until more decent hours dawned on the mansion.

He wasn't worried as to how important the call was- all discretely, private and important matters were re-routed through to his private phone, and not the office line. And he was quite confident, being the head of LexCorp, they would call back, guaranteed.

That particular call, however, had delivered some rather disturbing news. After hearing the caller's agitated explanation, a lethal intensity took over from his calm, still sleepy countenance. Barking strict orders down the line, he hung up, and then five minutes later, had dressed and was out the front door (which was quite a trek in the Luthor mansion) and getting into the waiting limousine.

A police barricade, off to the side, barred the growing levels of reporters and personnel as uniformed officials swarmed the site.

As the limo approached, several faces turned, and curiosity turned to excitement, and the cameras lights flared, in a too-bright array of seemingly perpetual flashes. Unconcerned, Lex order the driver to continue past, manoeuvring further into the activity of the construction site.

Stepping swiftly out of the vehicle, Lex stood, eyes surveying the chaos around him with outright displeasure, unconsciously eluding a powerful sense of authority that drew every face in the crowd to his direction.

Hissing slightly at the glare of the sun, he removed his sunglasses and scanned the crowds for any familiar faces.

_Of course, in Smallville, they're ALL familiar faces._

"Mr Luthor!"

Lex grimaced. He knew that voice all-too well, and composed his face into a concerned frown, before turning to face the speaker.

"Sheriff! What's the situation here?" Although the undercurrent running through Lex's façade, belied the enquiring nature of the question; he wanted answers, and he wanted them now.

Turning on her heel she motioned for Lex to follow her past the yellow ticker tape, bordering the main site, just beyond the cave's entrance.

"The situation, Mr Luthor, is that I've got at least a dozen officers covering what looks to be a rather nasty explosion incident, located, surprise, surprise, from the underground caves that lie beneath _your_ construction site."

"What caused it?"

"We're still looking into it at this time. In the meanwhile, it would be best if your people stayed out of the way while we determine the facts behind the explosion."

Lex raised an eyebrow, mildly affronted by the insinuation. "Are you implying that this tragedy is somehow _my _fault, Sheriff!" Seeing the storm clouds gathering on Adam's face, however, stopped him from adding anything further.

"What I'm _implying_ Mr Luthor, is that your people, have a tendency to add to situations that already don't need adding to. My men are just trying to do their jobs- the quicker we can determine who did this, and the why, we'll be out of your hair…So to speak!"

Having long suffered remarks about his baldness, even as a passing quip, Lex threw the brisk order aside and continued on with his own line of questioning, dousing the Sheriff with an amused smirk of his own as she reacted to his brusqueness.

One eyebrow rose in her patented look of barely masked incredulance, she parried his requests easily, with professional ease.

"I understand if you have questions, Mr Luthor…."

He cut her off, frustration escalating into a slow anger burn. "That would be why I just asked them!"

The look she sent him was positively ice cold.

"…but, given the unknown circumstances around the disappearance of one of LexCorp's employees, and the hospitalisation of another, I'd say the situation here has only begun to grow. I'd recommend you keep your people away from the site at this time."

"Sheriff, while I appreciate your concern, I assure you that my involvement in the situation will be both unobtrusive and preventative. The people responsible must be found and dealt with,"

"A job for the Smallville Sheriff's department Mr Luthor- _Not _by any fish you have online."

Shooting her a look of barely concealed irritation, he composed himself mentally and continued. "…As I was saying, dealt with by the proper authorities. The two boys will be provided the best medical care available, and their families supported, at LexCorp's expense of course."

The Sheriff turned back to him, appraising his features with at same look he'd seen her unleash on Clark. Her eyes glinted with a suspicious shine, and her speech now was slower, drawn out.

"Now, I didn't get around to telling you the victim's ages or gender. Is there anything else about this case you wouldn't happen to have found out by '_unobtrusive_' means, now, is there Mr Luthor?"

The denial came swiftly of his tongue, and Lex was about to remind her of his positive contribution to the Smallville community and their past histories, when raised, strained voices, brought them both swivelling around, the movement at the police barriers escalating in a all out riot.

Lex pinpointed the exact centre of the disturbance; an older, distinguished looking man was struggling in the grip of two grim officers, trying in vain to clear the barrier. The man's glasses were askew on his face, his appearance ragged, and oddly out of place in the throngs of brightly suited reporters, whose attention had been caught by the scuffle.

Titling his head to better study the man, Lex was mildly surprised to recognise him as one of Smallville's scholarly elite, a Professor at the local University. _Ancient languages or something like that… Interesting!_

Sheriff Addams took the distraction as the conversations end.

"As you can see, we're already up to our elbows in situations today. And Mr Luthor, I will tell you this only once- Do not take it upon yourself to add to it. Our detectives will be in touch, and I suggest you to not leave town for the time being."

Lex watched her leave, bristling but amused at the audacity with which she directed her implications and threats. Lifting his phone to his ear, he punched in his private assistant's number, his eyes slits as he calculated the new information.

"Lex Luthor. Yes. Inform the doctors at Smallville General that I want to speak with the young man from the accident. Yes. As soon as possible. Make sure he doesn't talk to anyone, not even reporters. Send Gordon- no, I'm not firing him. Not yet."

"Set up the appropriate cash funds for the medical expenses. You know what to do for the rest- And pull up any information you can on the Smallville University's Professor of Ancient Languages.

Call me when it's done."

* * *

She was floating, and extremely calm. Her body weighed nothing, her problems were nothing, and all she needed to know was that this wonderful feeling stretched on forever.

But she was frowning. Why was she frowning? Here she was safe, and clear. Nowhere could be a better place for dreaming than this. But, there was that feeling…

Around her seemed to slow down- that beautiful warm flow had just frozen below her feet, and as her fingers skimmed the surface of the lake, a settling blackness mirrored from the ice into her eyes. As it filled her vision, she felt a great sense of despair, which stretched on to eternity. No matter how much she turned, her neck craning, hoping to find her peace again, there was nothing.

_In the absence of light, darkness reigns_. The warmth in her fingers was dying, numbing to the cold. She started to hyperventilate, her gasps turning to small clouds in the mist. She didn't like this place. She wanted to go back…go home. There the crystal walls sang with light. _But you're not home. You will never see home again._

Words like knives, appearing from nowhere and slashing through to her heart. Her hand went to cover her chest, stop the words from getting in, but what she found made her jerk away in horror.

The ice, the cold, the pain….Looking down, she saw a huge clump of ice crystals springing from her chest. If the pain hurt, then this realisation was death.

She was doing it.

The voice was her own.

A heaviness settled in her limbs, and like a puppet with cut strings, she fell. Maybe for an eternity, for a minute… However long it was, time seemed at a pause, the space contracting and expanding with her rattling breaths.

And still the words came, making a weird sort of sense, which was nothing to her at all._ Painfully slow. Every time, it was too slow. _Kara's breathing hushed as she watched the corporal strings of words dance in front of her eyes. Transfixed, she reached out involuntarily, but grasping nothing but fading mist- and the words themselves reacted, weaving around her outstretched shaking fingers.

As they coiled up her arm, and the coldness began spreading past her elbow, she stretched her body back in revulsion, determined to put as much distance between her and the words as possible. Her panic grew in waves as she shook and clawed at the mist, now lingering dangerously close to her neck.

Shivering racked her silently; the gurgling noise that was before indiscernible now became clear as the crystal song of the walls. The transparency of the mist was cloudier, and clung to the hairs at the nape, and the coldness gained shape and intensified. Pinpricks of pain flashed through her brain. The mist had liquefied, and Kara's slim, bent frame was quivering, as it paused, its childlike giggling echoing close to her ear.

The fear was overwhelming; it wrapped itself around the base of her spine, and squatted there like a toad. Thunder was rolling through the space, and grew in resonance as her heartbeat pounded in rhythm. Bringing herself to focus on the invisible threat hidden from her peripheral vision, a scream clogged in her insides, breaking loose to join the thunder in deafening shrieks.

_Wake up, Kara. Wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP……_

She awoke with the same scream blocking her throat.

"Wake up Linda." A male voice from behind the door sighed. "In ten minutes I'm leaving, with or without you!"

After a beat, the voice receded, with retreating footsteps up the hallway, leaving Linda slightly shaken, and churning violently from the dream. _What the hell was that about?_

Her hands drifted down to rest slightly on the reassuring thumping of her heart. Unsure of what she was expecting to find instead, Linda took a deep breath, hand still covering her chest, and let the morning light chase the nightmarish images away.

Sigh. _Why, just once can't I dream about Orlando Bloom? Plleeeeeaasee!_ "Urgh…" Linda rubbed the sleep from her eyes, still half closed with aching tiredness. Time for the twelve steps process: sigh, open my eyes, sit up, get up, etc… With the mundane notion of what colour shoes she would wear, Linda opened her eyes fully, and those blurry images focused and came into view.

Her brain ticked over for a few minutes before Linda realised why her vision was filled with…Off white! Jolting awake like she had been hit with a live wire, she felt her nose scrape against the ceiling, her body floating metres above the guest bed at her Aunt's house.

The room was filled with unpacked bags, sitting near the far wall, her bed in the centre of the space, and if she had been in it, she would have awoken in the warm bath of sunlight that poured through the window, its curtains fluttering in the slight breeze. And other than a few stray crickets, the room was silent.

Linda couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with no noise- back home, the sounds of the traffic below, would have greeted her ears as she awoke in her room in the apartment. The silence became too unnerving after several seconds, and Linda firmly pushed away from the ceiling, drifting down to the comforter and mussed sheets on the bed, concentrating on the disappearing elated feeling of being weightless, and her head sank against the pillow.

Sitting up, she surveyed the unpacking she had in for her that afternoon and pushed off the mattress, stumbling to the half open window, pushing the curtain material aside with one hand. Squinting from the light, she stared at the rolling fields that disappeared in a tree-line near the horizon. A frown pulled at the corners of her full mouth, and that uncomfortable feeling grew. _Christ, I'm in friggin' Kansas._

Skirting the bed, she grabbed for the overnight bag on the nightstand, and trudged to the adjoining bathroom, her pyjama pants riding low on her narrow hips. She glared at her reflection in the mirror above the sink, and started brushing her teeth with a vengeance, scrutinising the ten tonne bags under her eyes, and her now extremely blonde hair, which stuck out at the side like a nightmarish wing.

She used the reflection to gaze back into the bedroom, eyes darkening as she spotted the backpack at the end of her bed, and remembered the summer school promise started today.

_Where's a tornado when you need one…_

* * *

Today was not going to be a good day. Clark knew it already- staring across the kitchen bench at his parent's unsmiling faces, and he didn't need wonder why.

"Clark…" his father sighed, frustrated. It would be yet another conversation in which Clark added to the feelings of guilt settling in the pit of his stomach. Another situation where Clark debated feigning ignorance, if only for an instant. Then he would take a moment to clear his head, before he realised that it was an insult to tell them anything but the truth.

He couldn't believe this time was any different. But it was- the latest drama in a stream of incidents created by his powers. Gigantic solar flares were to blame the last time they went on the fritz, but that wasn't an option this time- no-one could ask for clearer skies, or the cooler days that were seasonal for Smallville around autumn.

"Dad…" Clark paused, the explanation tying his tongue into knots. His gaze dropped to the floor, and run his hand through his black mop as that split second of indecision hit right on cue. "Dad…" he tried again, surrendering to the hopelessness wave of jumbled thoughts bouncing through his head.

Jonathon Kent watched as a myriad of expressions fell across his son's face. He knew, all too well the confusion surrounding Clark's growing abilities, and troubles. His mind shifted back into too-familiar movements- concern, anxiety, caution and finally patience. Clark may have the monopoly on teenage drama, but Jonathon had sat across from him many times, and visited parental drama just as often. Now, it was difficult not to approach these conversations without some sense of worry.

"_Clark_…" His father would not easily surrender the conversation to silence. Whatever it was, they needed to resolve it- and quickly, before it got any more out of hand. Or, at least, that's what Clark read from Jonathon's stare. And he crumbled.

"I'm sorry, it's all my fault!" His parents drew back, slightly shocked at the defeated admission. Clark continued on, staring down at his hands, suddenly weary. "I guess, I figured if I handled it by myself I wouldn't have to worry you. Again." The amazing realisation that hit him was that, no matter how bad the situation escalated, he always initially believed that leaving his parents out of the loop was a smart idea. Reality, on the other hand, was intent to bite him on his Kryptonian butt every time.

And every time this was his medicine- having another conversation across the kitchen table, soaking up every reaction on their faces, no matter how hard he stared at the bench. Unexceptionally, his father looked ready to be gearing up for another 'responsibility to be honest' lectures, while his mother sat, quietly sending waves of disappointment and worry his way. At this point, he wasn't sure which was worse.

It wasn't for several moments that Clark latched onto what was being said. "Did anyone else see what happened?"

'No." Clark stopped, confused. "Happened where?"

"In Crater Woods. Was there anyone there?"

"Ohhh." Replaying the memory in his mind's eye, he tensed, and shoulders hunching as his emotions were stirred up again. "No…"

Jonathon visibly relaxed. "Good. Now son, maybe for the time being, it would be best if you took a usual means of travel to and from school. Just to be on the safe side."

Clark wasn't appeased. He followed his father from the table, not intent to let the matter slip as easily as he believed his parents had. Martha had remained decidedly silent during the whole length of the conversation, and although she seemed as unappeased as her son, she chose to let her husband a little time to think. Moving through the beginning of her daily breakfast routine, it was silently that her worries plagued her, her hands automatically moving to wash and dry the dishes. All the while, she kept alert to the conversation in the living room.

"Clark, believe me, I'm as concerned about this as you." Jonathon heard his son's footsteps halt behind him, and he turned to look Clark in the eye as he continued. "But you can't let yourself build up the problem until we know _exactly _what's going on."

Jonathon's voice was calm, and even, urging Clark to relax, and he felt himself drain of the nervous tension that had been welling up since he'd mentioned the problem yesterday. Resigning himself to the logic with a breath he wasn't even aware of holding, he inclined his head slightly in response.

"Good. Now listen Clark, if anything else happens today, your mother and I will be standing by the phones just in case." Noting Clark's downcast expression, Jonathon gripped his son's shoulders slightly, his own heart sinking slightly at the slight apprehension in his son's eyes. "Hey, remember, we've been through this before, and came through fine in the end. This will be no different. You just have to…keep calm, and figure it out." Punctuating the sentence with a gentle squeeze to his son's shoulder, Jonathon dropped his hands to his sides and turned to open the screen door.

"Now come on, I'll give you a lift." As the pair headed out to the pick-up, Martha called out suddenly, as Clark's backpack lay in the kitchen, forgotten. "Clark. Don't forget…" Before she had a chance to finish, he son scooted back into the kitchen, scooped it up with an apolothetic smile and a quick 'thanks', and raced out onto the porch, to his father, who clapped his back, shaking his head and smiling.

Martha waited a beat, and then called out again.

"Jonathon. Perhaps you might need…"

She stopped, grinning slightly as her somewhat embarrassed husband raced awkwardly into the kitchen, and plucked the truck keys from her upturned palm, before pecking her cheek, and murmuring a quick "Thanks sweetie," before heading out the door, to the truck, and Clark. Mother and son shared a quick roll of the eyes as Jonathon climbed into the driver's seat, and started the engine, sparing a wry glance at the pair.

_Yes_, Martha gave a quick sigh, as she turned back to the living room, moving back into her daily routine as she picked up the mugs and brought them over to the sink. Contemplating the men in her life, she laughed to herself as she worked. She heard the truck pull off into the distance and shook her head once more that day. _Sometimes I just don't know what to do with those pair…_

* * *

"….._somebody saavvvveee me, _

_And two warm hands break right through me  
somebody save me  
I don't care how you do it  
Just sav…" _click

"_Urgh!" _Linda spared an annoyed glance at her father's car radio. _Damn, I hate that song! _Leaning over, she flicked the station off without pause, and returned her attention to the road.

Or rather, she diverted her attention from the road, to her mobile, now wedged in-between the crock of her shoulder, and her ear, and back again. Shifting down gears to cruise at a more appropriate speed, Kara grimaced from the shrill interrogation Tracy was yelling down the line.

"_WHAT? _Why did it start doing that? And more importantly, why are you just telling me about this now?"

Scenery sped by, and she barely gave a second glance at the lush green landscape, save for the tiny flicks of movement as her eyes strayed from the road ahead. The fields, in their great gaping expanses, deserved more attention than she had to spare, although, she felt her mouth creep up into a mischievous smile, nothing was stopping her from exploring the aerial views later.

She hadn't been completely honest to her father- Smallville was, at least to her, a pleasant escape from the city. At least here, she could pretend to fit in, and suffer the slower pace of life, with ease and calm. For a little while, anyway…

"Jeez, no need to shout, okay? The only reason Dad let me take the truck to classes, was on the proviso that it comes back in one piece!"

"You're driving- AND you're on the phone! Are you crazy? You must be- otherwise... Wait, did you just change the subject on me? "

Acres and acres of nothing. It was amazing, that no matter where she was, or how prepared, troubles always had a way of creeping out the shadows at her presence. And kicking her square on the…

"…butt-hole, backwater, stupid towns with roads like spilled treacle!" Without thought, she'd driven over one of the road's bigger potholes, and now the car roof over the driver's side held a reasonable 'Kara's head'-sized dent in it. Perfect, just perfect!

"Kaaaaarrrrrrraaa!" If it were possible, Tracy's voice grew even more insistent, reminding her of the reason behind the phone call in the first place. "Yeah, I'm still here," sighing deeply, Kara swore she could hear Tracy's eye's rolling down the other end of the line. And smirking, too!

No, make that sulking like a petulant five year old.

"For God's sake! You called me- at seven thirty in the AM, on a ho-li-day. And yet, here I am, still relaxing in my pyjamas, reclining in a comfy warm chair by the phone, sipping my delicious, creamy, steaming hot _double mocha_ coff…"

"Are you even _trying _to make me HATE you!" Kara interrupted before her friend's intentional monologue on caffeinated beverages, had her drooling down her shoes. Her father's successful attempts to wake her up that morning had also resulted in her rather unsuccessful attempt to swipe a mug of coffee out from under his nose.

He'd caught her on her not-so-slick escape, precious caffeine hidden under her denim jacket, and guilty expression hidden under a long wave of hair. She had hoped the innocent grin turned up to full-wattage, and then escaping with super-speed through the back door might _just_ work this time.

Nope, nada, uh-uh, nein and big fat NO!

The ploy never, ever, _ever_ worked. Not the three times she'd tried it that morning, or the two times yesterday- it all ended in the same way. She'd be halfway out the door, hope surging, mouth watering in anticipation of the only Earth beverage her alien side and human side loved equally…her cells charged up for a full on hyper speed sprint, when what four words should cut through her caffeine dreams but…

"LINDA KARA LEE-DANVERS!" _Yeeeep!_ Those words.

Quite possibly, the only power in the known universe to bring the last surviving daughter of Krypton, to a complete and utter stop- and from past experience Kara knew better than to go against her father's wrath on these occasions. Or as she had affectionally dubbed them, after a long and lengthy post-parent lecture/grounding… the Four Words of Infinite Doom.

And after that morning's latest disagreement, to add irony the whole situation, was the fact that now she _really, really_ needed the coffee she had gotten herself into trouble over, in the first place.

Well, it was either that, or a sympathetic ear. _Speaking of which_…"Sooorrryy! Once again, not my fault that _someone's _failed attempt at debauchery earned her a tough case of mocha-envy!" _Ah, Tracy, once again your compassionate concern over me is truly touching! Then again, it really isn't!_

Shadows fell on the windscreen, and Kara couldn't help but a moment's pause, as the paddocks lining the road ended abruptly, and a deep stretch of great, tall Conifers loomed into view. Downshifting again, she felt an awe seep through her skin, eyes wide, temporarily oblivious to all else, except the experience of cruising gently under the overhead curve of such tall, green giants, letting the breeze ruffle her hair slightly and drift into the car's interior with such a calm longing it became instantly etched into her memory.

Then the peace was suddenly shattered. "KARA! Are you still there? Are you okay? What the hell is going on down there? " This time, the concern in Tracy's voice was clear, loud and demanding in her ear.

"Please, Kara. Talk to me, boo! What's the problem?" _Good question_.

Breathing deep, she shifted focus back to the conversation, "nothing. Nothing's wrong. Just distracted, is all." Slight bursts of sunlight darted out from behind the trees, lighting a patchwork of shine and shadow along the roadway.

"Distracted, huh? By what, a guy?"

Leaning forward, a sudden whisper of movement, just ahead, riveted her attention to the deepening darkness off beyond the road. Something scraped along her nerves, and a cautionary wariness slipped forefront to her mind. "No…Well, just enjoying the views, you know, trees, grass, cows…" She trailed off, the pull growing stronger. _Damn it, what now?_

"Trees? Boo, I was concerned before, when you rang about that special Krypto-whatiz going on the fritz, and then you said you were feeling off-colour, which is cool _if_ you're a normal person…"

"The Argonian bracelet, Tracy, not a whatiz. You know, shiny, metal, my purpose for being here!" She paused, frowning. "And I _am_ normal…sometimes!"

Tracy snorted, mumbling something like 'so are axe murders', but the sarcasm was lost on Kara, as she tensed, her grip tightening unconsciously on the steering wheel. The alien part of her brain demanded she scan the surrounding environment for hostiles, and for once she was willing to listen. Whatever was out there, was giving her a major sense of the creeps.

Even her telepathy, which she normally held in strict reservation, was feeding her a nasty, clammy foreboding, and she swore softly beneath her breath. _This is, definitely bad. _She recoiled from the sensation, nose wrinkled, as a coppery smell hit her nose, and that was all the warning she got, as…

_Flash_

_Red, bright, burning eyes. Blood… Dizzying canopy of trees-light, noise. Loud, too loud. Where…what…Don't know…cold, so cold. Caves, caves with pain, noise everywhere…_

_The ground lurched, darkness creeping up at the sides, where…there, there! Almost…_

_Flash end _

The mental kickback left her breathless and wincing slightly. Gagging on the aftertaste, she swallowed hard. With her heartbeat thundering in her eardrums, she braked suddenly, the screech of tyres joining the rising strain of sounds assaulting her head.

Shaking arms rested on the steering wheel for support, and Kara slumped against the seat, tired, disturbed, a fine sheen of sweat dotting her forehead as she ignored the sudden violent urge to throw up everything she'd ever eaten. The images rose again, stripping away all thoughts and action. _Oh My…_

"_God_! Okay, I heard tyres screeching…Kara…KARA…"

_Deep breaths, deep. _"Sorry Tracy I'm going to have to call you back!" She hung up, cutting Tracy's protests off mid-rant, throwing down the phone. Undoing the seatbelt, she climbed out the truck, subconsciously grateful that the road was deserted.

_Then, again…_ Sniffing the air, Kara drew back suddenly, her brow furrowed in confusion. The coppery taste was fading, thankfully, but the smell of blood still lingered. Unafraid, she stepped closer to the shadows dwelling beyond the road, and the sense of unease grew in strength. She didn't get a chance to ponder it for long as jumped to face the dark figure bursting forth from the trees.

It charged her with a strangled scream, mixing pain and terror into the wind, which two years ago would have sent her shrieking to the safety of the car, and driving like a maniac back to Metropolis.

Day's later after fevered searching; her father would stoop down to find her, a quivering and whimpering mess, rocking in her closet.

But not now. Not even close.

Time and facing one inhuman criminal after another for two years straight changed it all.

Shifting stance, she waited until the last possible second, and sidestepped the creature, letting its own momentum cause it to loose footing, and tripping slightly, fell face first into the road's hard, grey asphalt.

Smirking briefly, Kara stood still, eyes trained on the creature…no, young man, she suddenly identified with slight concern, as he lay there, unmoving save the ragged intakes of breath as the rise and fall of a very bloodied, naked, upper torso pushed air in and out of an already broken body.

Her eyes widened: realising her mistake, and by his side in a _literal_ second, and winced at the large bloodstains that looked fresh…His kid, whoever he was, had been badly attacked.

Noting with a raised eyebrow, the muscled arms, fair features and his dark, mussy hair, Kara found her thoughts drifting to a slightly inappropriate area. She _had_ to admit, he was cute, and probably would have blushingly introduced herself, and proceeded to flirt like mad…had they met under different circumstances. _Oh well…If wishes were horses_…

Sucking in a deep breath, she laid a gentle hand upon the boy's shoulder, while her eyes diluted with the green tinge of her alien origins. As the familiar bluish skeletal view superimposed itself over the world, Kara felt her face tighten into a mask of anger: several badly reset ribs and a hairline fracture along his tibia told that in the previous 48 hours…this body had seen great harm. And lucky to be alive!

Kara was, all of a sudden, infinitely glad that the person or thing responsible for this was nowhere in the near vicinity- and she roughly stamped down on the wildly violent impulse to hit something…_really_ hard. Really, really hard, and with enough force behind the blow to stop it from getting up a second time. Or ever- Either way suited her fine at this point.

* * *

The young man groaned, shifting slightly under her hand, eyes blinking open sluggishly- just in time to look up into the unknown face of the young blonde girl. With unnaturally green glowing eyes, and a face pulled tight with fury. Needless to say, he reacted a tad badly.

Yelling in fright, he back-pedalled from this…creature, which now seemed more surprised than jolted by his sudden wakefulness. His shadowed, overly-bright eyes widened as she stood, towering over his retreating form- and the green mist dissipated, leaving a piercing cornflour blue that highlighted concern, her hand reaching out for his…waiting.

Warily, slowly, he stared at it for the longest moment, and reached out to clasp the warm long fingers with his own.

And then swung her bodily into the car with such violent lurching force that shattered the windows, glass exploding outwards to pepper the road surface. Snarling he advanced, the light disappearing from his eyes, replaced by a darkness that reeked, unholy.

* * *

Kara was pissed. Noting his approach she straightened, and stepped up to meet him, the smashed in outline of her frame etched in the now steaming grill of the car…her father's car. Which now, as she spared a glance back at the crumpled write-off, resembled something that hadn't survived a 'Jackass' episode.

Pissed was an understatement. A definite understatement.

Rearing one fist back, her eyes slits of fury, and in a quick anticlimax, sent the advancing figure flying back through the air several feet. Blurring suddenly, she super sped over to the prone…thing, before it had the chance to rise again.

The wind had picked up now, and whipped the blonde tresses about her face like Medusa's snakes, her jean clad legs bending to pick up the man in a one-armed steel like grip, to pull him up, face to face. Shadows played over the scene, and the pair stood, in the single patch of light filtering through the trees overhead.

"What are you?" The hiss escaped from its lips, a scratching noise that tore from its throat, so full of violence and hatred. Kara, however, answered in kind, her face a hairs breath away, iron grip still tight and unwavering on its neck.

She smiled, in an expression that was anything but heartening. "Someone that doesn't like rainy days, big bad nasty things, who has little self control, and likes to hit said nasty things. Most of which, you seem to qualify for…So, this leaves us with…well no options. Either a. You tell me what your deal is, after I kick your arse a bit. Or b. You don't, and I kick your annoying little butt a whole lot more than a bit."

Silence.

"Okay then," Its eyes raised to her face, then to the fist she was pulling back in preparation. "Option b it is."

* * *

Its eyes widened, almost comically, less in reaction to what was now approaching it's head, but what was on the arm. Shiny, metal, with a lone crystal in the centre, and seemingly littered with an interesting random pattern…

Internally, the shadow twisted and laughed. This thing, this little slip of a girl…in one hit that had sent it flying, hurt; confused into the ground- It knew now, how such a thing could best him so humiliatingly.

_Kryptonian filth! _Dissipating, it retreated, thoughtful, back into the recess of the boy, hiding. Relinquishing the dark tentacles wrapped tightly around the brainstem, the shadows shifting deep, deep down, to a place in his subconscious.

It had a lot to think about.

* * *

Kara, on the other hand, was thinking very little, her arm geared back to deliver a forceful incentive to its face, when… The face shifted again, like the darkness had suddenly vanished, along with the angry buzz her alien halve was yelling at her from the back of her brain.

Tear tracks streamed down, from wide, heartbreakingly innocent eyes, the emptiness gone, and suddenly once again, the figure she held before her ebbed with fear and pain.

"Please." It was barely a whisper, a breath filled with cracking despair. "Please don't let it get me, please."

"What!" Utterly confused, Kara untensed slightly, dropping the hand on his neck, stepping back to observe the young man. With fists still clenched at her sides, and still mentally reeling from this situation that increasingly made her feel like she was suddenly and unexplainably strapped into an invisible roller coaster… her brain rationalized the situation remarkably quickly, deftly summing it all up in just one word.

_Okkaaayyy!_

He swayed again, dangerously close to passing out. Reacting instantly, she moved forward, arms circling his waist, and gently lowering him to the ground.

He didn't resist, speaking volumes of just how out if it the boy was. With a firm arm around his shoulder, she tightened her grip as his head sagged backwards for an instant, her inbuilt protective nature flaring up to override anything else.

"What? What are you afraid of?" There, those overbright eyes, now a telltale sign of an out of control fever, fixed on her face.

* * *

He was so exhausted- the pain and the heat combining to edge his vision in a grey- fuzzy scope. The past several hours were a raw blur of nightmarish images and blackouts, and there wasn't a single part of him that didn't scream with pain at the barest hint of movement.

Then he was on the road and this girl…this beautiful figure that sent the shadows back, and if he had been in better shape, would have wondered as to exactly how he ended up cradled in her arms, her eyes, so blue, and so full of concern for him.

* * *

Kara grew concerned. The young man hadn't spoken for several seconds.

"Okay," she announced, firm, unyielding "time to get you to a hospital. Now."

"NO!" Determined, he caught her eyes and held them, holding back none of the need he fuelled into the next words. _She has to know…_ "You should leave me."

Smiling gently, she braced his back with her free arm, shifting into a crouch. "You're gonna be fine, and me" she gestured to herself with a playful nod "I don't leave people who need help, by the side of the road." Trying again, she reached out to pull him up.

He weakly drew back; still resistant. "Please, don't let him get me. Don't let Segeth find me." Shaking violently, he fell forward, energy gone. Letting the blackness envelop him completely, the last thing his eyes caught was the girl's look of worry as she reached out to grab him.

Moving fast, Kara pulled the boy into a cradling embrace and stood. Grimly aware of the state of the car, and the unconscious figure she held protectively close, who even now she could tell he was fading quickly, she decided on the only truly immediate means of transport she had at her disposal.

Sparing a wry glance at the crumpled bonnet, she focused, shifting stance and tilted her head back up to the clouds.

Breathing out, she pulled the boy closer, and in one almighty push, felt her body clear the ground and an exhilarating weightlessness filled her entire being as she soured up, beyond the wreckage, the trees and into the wide blue sky. Focused on the thermal updrafts and strong winds, she almost didn't spot the initial clustering of tiny boxes in the distance. _So that's Smallville, huh? Certainly is small from up here!_

Quickly orientating herself, she stretched out, willing her body to shift through the space between her and the town as fast as possible. Gathering speed, she rocketed closer and closer to her destination, a blur impossible to follow with the naked eye.

Inhaling deeply, she prayed she would reach there in time. And also for mercy, when her father found out what happened for the car. _Oh, yeah, that's likely!_

"My dad is going to kill me."

* * *

In the air above Smallville, the people looked to the sky in confusion as a great booming sound shook the atmosphere for a moment, and then fell silent again.

* * *


	7. Repurcussions await

**Disclaimer: Yep, we all know the drill…Making no profit from this yada yada yada…Smallville, and Supergirl, and any other shows made mention of here, are the profit of those people who own them (grrrr, and How I hate them.) If _I did_ own Smallville, why in all of the wacky planets in our universe would I be doing this... :)**

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last couple of chapters. This chapter has FINALLY been extended- thanks to all who reviewed up to this point. I have no apology goos enough, so I'll just post thisinstead...But thank you everyone, again!**

Sugarburn:_I liked your suggestions for the way that Clark and Kara should meet, and it warms the heart to hear such detail and thought given in your reply. Thank you once again, and I hope to hear your wonderful insight again soon. _Tzoo-foo nee, mei-mei.

Doza: _Once again, great to hear from you. I hope to earn more of your uplifting enthusiasm and energy with this chapter for the story to come. It's absolutely grastifying to an author to hear of the interest readers have for their story. Read on, and I hope you enjoy._

Jess:_Okay confused: Seeing as though this is a kind of crossover between the Smallville universe, the Supergirl movie universe and the Supergirl comic strip universe, then the Matrix is sort of like a gigantic boost of energy that Kara gain when Linda and Kara joined, but lost when that energy passed to Twilight to save her life. Now, Kara's powers are more like Clark's present abilities while he's still developing. Lex Luthor here is based on the Smallville version and not the comic one. But thank you much for asking the question- It helps me write a more refined character (in truth I had to gasp check up on that answer after I read your review. ) Keep asking questions and your inquistiveness helps push the story to better than what it was before. _

sgfan: _I'm glad you like it:) Its great to hear your ideas and thoughts and the what the f& moment sounds like it might just do! I hope that the next chapter fends off just a little of that curiosity._

Hi: _Well, thank you muchly for your responses. Your interest is lighting to the next path the story takes...Not to mention complete manna from heaven for an author to hear. It was incrediably joyous to hear your love for the story. I hope you like next installments. _

**_Well, thank you all once again. YESSSSS! Below is the revised version of this Chapter- extended finally...Thank you God. _**

**_Enjoy..._**

* * *

CHAPTER SIX

**SAME DAY**

The hospital was crowded.

Too crowded. Overcrowded could not even begin to describe the outpourings of people streaming through the doors of the medical centre.

It gave off a sense of too many people, going in too many directions in one small space. Typically usual for a place such as Smallville General, but today it seemed that the hustle and bustle was multiplied. Times by three.

A truck had overturned on Ninth and Russel streets, and both the driver and several bystanders were being treated for chemical burns, concussions and other nasty scrapes and bumps.

Orderlies rushed about, and several doctors were barking orders at each other from across each of the gurneys cluttering the hallways of the first floor.

And then there was the waiting room, crowded with various family members and other less severe injuries were being sidelined until the crisis abated.

A young boy and his father stood off to one side, and the older cradled the wailing child close to his chest, careful not to touch his right arm, clearly broken as it dangled awkwardly at an odd angle.

A middle aged woman stood arguing at the desk, loudly and impatiently demanding to see her doctor, complaining to the poor, overwhelmed nurse beside her that her arthritis was acting up bad.

Bright, overhead fluorescent lighting cast an overly white glare to the walls and floor,

giving everything a look of sterile impartiality. Kara shifted, uncomfortable with the glare, the noise and overall crowding of the waiting room.

But she had been told by a very stern looking doctor to stay put, and she unconsciously found herself complying.

The trip itself was simple- easy, if not for the underlying current of severity.

Arriving at the hospital was not as easy.

Dodging and weaving through the crowds, she spied an empty gurney to the left of the front desk- directly behind a line of orderlies, big, burly and looking quite annoyed.

Great.

Discretely, she swivelled her head, and spying no video surveillance, she launched into a jump at super-speed, neatly clearing the narrow space over the orderly's heads, and tucking into a crouching position behind the gurney itself. The boy in her arms had been silent for most of the trip, but now she found him wide awake and staring at her, eyes shining with the fever, and something else she couldn't describe.

"Who _are _you?"

The whispered awe in his voice sent a slightly rosy glow to her cheeks. As smoothly as possible, she turned, cautiously lowering the boy onto the thin comfort of the mattress, a crinkle of worry prominent from her brow. He looked bad, to say the least. Kara laid a hand on his shoulder, as he tried to rise.

"No. Stay still," she told him. "You're not ready to get up just yet."

Turning she caught sight of a middle aged man in a white lab coat, just exiting a room to the right of the waiting room chaos. Rushing over to him, she threw caution to the wind, and grabbed his arm.

_Easy, go easy Danvers!_ Forcing a polite smile, she looked into the man's shocked expression as he tried to pull his arm away. He spluttered; face turning an interesting shade of red. "What…what are you doing? Let go of me or I'll call secur…"

"I'm sorry," Looking anything but, she dragged him, protesting through the dashing and darting chaos, to the gurney and the young man, now scarily still. Prodding the man forward, she ordered, "Help him." She stared up, compelling the man, "Please!"

After several seconds of stillness, the man broke off his gaze, as if just then remembering where he was. He sucked in a breath, eyes assessing. "How did this happen?"

Kara's gaze snapped back up to the man's face, worry giving way to a rising wave of

panic. The panic must have showed because the man clarified his statement. "Did you or anyone else see how he received his injuries?"

_Mostly from me._ Swallowing a surge of bile, Kara shook her head, not trusting her own words to lie as convincingly as usual. At the man's frown, she coughed. "No."

"But he has several stress fractures in his back, slight internal bleeding and his head is swelling from a bruise on the muscle above his left eye." The doctor stared again, his professional mask slipping away to disbelief. Shaking his head, he poked and prodded the young man before him.

After a moment, she chanced a look at his face again. His mouth was opening and closing in some kind of internal debate.

The next time he spoke, his voice was hushed, confused. "How on earth would you know this? I don't understand, are you some kind of doctor?

Kara could have slapped herself in that instant. How could she have been so stupid? Setting her mouth grimly, she pushed the question aside. "Yeah, some kind of! Can you help him?"

"Sure. Ah, nurse, thank you I need your assistance here. Now please." He turned to Kara, whose eyes never left the relaxed face of the young man now being wheeled away. "Miss?"

Kara stood silent, face expressionless as she watched the gurney disappear around a corner. "Miss?" Unhearing, she was lost inside her own world of self-recrimination.

Tapping her shoulder, he leaned over, concerned. Hugging herself, she slowly turned to face him, eyes in turmoil.

"You need to talk to the nurse over there and fill out paperwork." He looked at her, eyes narrowing into slits, assessing silently. "I understand you may be experiencing some shock…"

_What was I doing? I have better control than this…_

"…But you need to find a seat, and wait."

_What was I thinking? I could have killed him, I was so angry, I should have had noticed…_

"…Miss, Did you hear what I just said?"

Nodding her head numbly, she took the files from the nurse's outstretched hand, and let herself be lead blindly into the waiting room, amidst the throes of people. She sat down, head bent forward deceptively as her ears picked up the whispered command between doctor and nurse, like it was through a microphone.

"_Watch her. She might still be in shock…" _

Comical disbelief sent her head shooting up, and she sent the handful of papers skittering all over the waiting room floor. Both nurse and doctor sent slanting, 'I-knew-it' stares in her direction, and after another moment, the nurse came over with an overly sugary smile on her face. Kara didn't know whether to laugh or glare.

Gathering up the papers from the floor, the nurse handed them to her. "Here you go dear. If you have any problems…"

_Like if I'm afraid I went and got too involved with a victim I just met…_

"…I'll be over there." She gave Kara one more assessing glance, then shifted her considerable weight on her heel, and dodged back to the nurse's station.

The papers felt weighty in her lap, but she stared down at them like they were live snakes, and after a long stare had to quell the rings of fire burning behind her eyes. Reducing the papers to a flaming pile of ashes on the waiting room floor might just tip someone off to her actual origins.

_A pity_. To her horror, quelling the building heat wasn't working, and she had to clench her eyes shut as a last resort. Hissing out through clenched teeth, she forced herself to relax, and slowly, the blinding streaks of pain across the darkness ceased.

"Tissue?"

A quiet, soothing voice pierced the hollow silence, and she opened her eyes to stare in surprise, at the owner. Blinking away the teary blur, she watched a hand came into view, holding a lone tissue, and held it there for several seconds before Kara reached out to take it.

Taking half-hearted swipes at her eyes so that the person wasn't offended, she turned to thank them only to meet the smiling, wide eyes of a young woman. Shoulder length blonde hair framed a pretty oval face, dominated by a set of green eyes and an infectious big grin.

Kara, speechless for the first time in a while, nodded by way of thanks, mentally correcting the image she had expected of a middle aged mother to add this new information. "Thanks."

The young woman shrugged, "It's okay. I keep plenty in my bag for those 'come and go' teary eye moments."

Kara really didn't want to start another conversation, but tried to keep her disinterest out of her reply. "I guess…" An awkward pause sent them both into silence.

Feeling bad, Kara tried to joke. "So what about that nurse huh? For a second I thought she was gonna force feed me ice chips!" The young woman grinned wider at that, if it were possible, and threw a quick glance over to the nurse's station, to meet the frowning glare of one of the orderlies there.

But the young woman simply returned it with an equally venomous glare of her own. "Well, it's better than them wanting to put you on ice, believe me!"

"Are you waiting to hear some news or…"

"Oh, no, nothing quite so chronic. I'm here just gathering information on the cars verses truck collision on Ninth and Russell." She gave a grand sweeping gesture with one arm. "Hence the overcrowded chaos."

A tiny spiral of panic flittered across Kara's face before she squelched it. "Oh. Are you a cop?" As soon as the question came out it just hung in the air between the two, and Kara felt like a complete idiot.

The young woman shook her head laughing. "Well, no-one's ever accused me of being overly law-abiding enough for that line of work. But I'm merely a reporter for a local paper: The Torch. People call me Chloe, Chloe Sullivan if you're being overly snooty." Chloe flashed another smile.

Kara too, broke into a grin and extended her hand. "Kar…I mean Linda Lee-Danvers. New-to-Towner. "

"Well, Miss Lee-Danvers," Chloe put on a mock-serious reporter's voice. "How do you like Smallville so far?"

Kara shrugged, playing along. "Okay I guess. Kind of slow though."

The pair shared a grin, before settling back down into their seats. A call from the front desk brought their heads up. "Ah, Miss Sullivan, Dr Burke will see you now."

"That's me." Gathering up her back, she stood, hefting it onto one shoulder before turning back to her companion.

"I guess saying that 'we should do this again sometime' sounds rather contrite given the givens, huh?"

Chloe laughed in response. "In Smallville, I'd say given the given's…I'll probably see you around anyway."

Walking over to the desk, she paused, swirling back to wave slightly at Kara from her vantage point near the halls. "I hope your boyfriend is okay," with a mysterious smirk curving her mouth, she disappeared into the crowds.

Slightly off-put, Kara frowned. _He's not my boyfriend. _

Turning back to the papers in her lap, she stared at them for a moment. Then like an audible click in her head, the comment brought her jumping off the seat, and startled.

Breath heaving, she looked around. _Oh Shit, oh shit! She saw me. She saw me_.

_Bad, bad, BAD!_ Kara spun, headed to the exit before she could blink, reigning in the mounting panic blinding her of rational thought. _I have to get out of here…But, the guy. _

Not pausing in her stride she was out the automatic doors and halfway across the parking lot, when she stopped, and suddenly rammed into on the side. Stumbling she latched onto the nearest thing within reach: Fabric.

Kara steadied herself, breathing in and out methodically, when she realised that the fabric was still in her hands. Cringing slightly, her eyes moved upwards, from mud crusted Doc Martins, faded jeans, and definitively stark plaid patterned shirt, to…

"_Sorry_." The muttered apology met with an amused pair of blue eyes. Stepping back, she suddenly realised her tight grip on the fabric had caused a very long tear. _Great, another power malfunction. _

_Wonderful, I hope that wasn't his favourite shirt._

"It's okay, but are you okay?" The boy looked a little over nineteen years old, but Kara could see an innocent concern crinkling out from the corners of his eyes. Overall she would have dismissed him as pure Kansas farm boy if not for the grip he had on her arm.

Yeouch! If she had been human, that grip would almost definitely leave a bruise, but as it was, her skin felt the pressure like a tickle. "I'm fine…thanks though. Sorry about the shirt."

"Sure." Clark studied the girl for a second, before smiling. "Sorry, about the bump."

Nodding slightly, she rubbed her arm, and turned back to the car park at a run. Dodging and weaving by all the parked cars, and those pulling in, she waited until she'd gotten well beyond the stretch of trees by the road before launching herself into the air.

Once airborne, she checked over her shoulder at the hospital, then her wristwatch, trying to ignore the nagging guilt over her sudden departure had on the boy she'd left there.

Realising just how late she was, she jolted forward in a burst of speed, determined to make her first day in Smallville High uneventful. _As if it hasn't been already!_

* * *

Clark watched the girl as she disappeared beyond the tree line, slowly shaking off the weird spike of deja-vu he'd just experienced. Sparing a glance down at his shirt, he grimaced wondering how to explain this latest clothing mishap to his mother.

Turning back to the doors of the hospital he picked up Chloe's whispered strain. "_Clark, where are you? Hurry up!"_ With one eyebrow raised at the annoyance in her voice, he squinted, x-raying the complex, and found her form huddled inside an office on the first floor.

He grinned: once Chloe had found out his secret she had ditched the old mobile phone system, and simply relied on Clark's super hearing to carry any important messages across the distances between them.

Throwing one final glance back at the direction the girl had taken, he headed toward the doors, notebook in hand. _Looks like Smallville has taken another step towards crazy this morning. _

Stepping into the chaotic masses of the waiting room, he searched out Chloe, letting the automatic doors of the front entrance close behind him.

* * *

Outside, the car park was slightly shaken by a distant sonic boom in the sky which quickly dissipated into the surrounding silence of the landscape.

* * *

George woke up at the hospital, not really feeling much of anything. As far as he could tell, one of his legs wasn't responding to his repeated attempts at movement, and it wasn't long before he realised why. Craning his neck forwards, he stared down in horror to find that his right leg was sealed in plaster up to the knee.

_What the hell…_His head felt strange, like it was stuffed with cotton, and as he shifted upright on the pillows, a startling clear set of images rose in front of his eyes.

"_What's the best way to get the police called?"…_

…"_You wanted to crank the volume on this sucker, and hope somebody in the vicinity hears, and calls the cops," George finished, as his head jerked up with realisation, finally understanding… "Good idea."_

…_The walls shuddered, and the pallets standing at the other end of the room, began to quake. A silent screaming filled the air, and pierced through the soft cushioning of the headphones…. _

_It was metal on metal; a horrible vibrating that shook the two boys with such force they were thrown to the floor. His friend's mouth was stretched in a thin white line, and a small trickle of blood dripped out his nose. _

…_It was as if the entire room had sucked in a breath. Somewhere deep inside the motherboard, feedback collided and the wiring snapped. "Oh shi…"_

_Time froze; a terrific thunder rang through the cave, as the motherboard exploded in a great flash of fire and light. Then there was chaos…._

He remembered; flashing red lights, and being loaded into the back of an ambulance. He had woken in the cave, a medic looking him over, unable to do anything, except groan at the jack-knifing pain drumming through his skull.

_Troy…_ He sat up then, ignoring a slight bout of dizziness. _What happened to Troy?_

"Good, you're awake." The voice filtered in from the shadows, and he jumped, unaware of another person in the room until then. The figure rose, and shifted, moving forward through the darkness to stand at the foot of the bed.

The man looked familiar to George. He had never met him, but the face was nagging his subconscious. The man continued, unconcerned with George's scrutiny. "Your parents have been quite concerned; they'll be relieved you're finally awake."

George was confused. "Are you a doctor?"

Whoever he was, the stranger seemed to find that rather amusing. Chuckling, he reached into his jacket pocket, fishing out a business card, passing over to George with a swift flick of the hand.

"No."

"I represent…certain other parties, also concerned with your…swift recovery."

The embossed finish of the card screamed money, and he held it in his fingers, brow wrinkled until the words stopped shifting in and out of focus. He blinked, reading then re-reading the name centralised in small caps on the back.

"LexCorp Industries…Is this for real?"

The man regarded him with a serious expression, saying nothing for several seconds.

"Yes, it is quite real. This room and your expenses at the hospital are covered, in care of Luthor enterprises." George's eyes widened at that. "Why," he blurted without thinking.

"I mean, I'm just grateful…" he apologised. "But this is all so surreal! Why would LexCorp give a damn about a causal employee?"

Silence stilled the moment; George realised he'd just broached a very touchy subject, but was beyond a point where he cared much.

"How much," the man picked his words carefully, and it was in that moment George realised he was dealing with a lawyer. Great, just great. "…Do you remember about the accident at the mines?"

He frowned, mind still clouded, memories blurring into a sea of haziness, and shrugged. "Not very much, sorry. Just bits and pieces." As the man nodded, then opened his mouth again, George felt a spiral of panic surge in his stomach.

"We didn't do anything wrong; Troy and I- we didn't do anything bad. I swear."

The man merely smiled, tossing the declaration aside. "Yes, we've determined the causes of the explosion already."

_Explosion? _The image of being tossed across the room, fire roaring at his back came rushing into clarity. _Oh, yeah. That's what that was._

"It seems the fault lies almost entirely on the wiring system. So you and your friend are off the hook; Don't worry."

George shook his head; something wasn't being said, he knew it. Jumping ahead, he questioned the man as he moved to the exit, standing in the doorway, mobile in hand.

"Wait," he called, voice anxious, "What happened to Troy? Is he alright? Is he here?"

The pause felt, to George, like it was sucking all the air from the room, and once again the man shot him an assessing stare. Then he sighed, answering tersely.

"Mr Mullins arrived here early this morning; he's still in surgery at this time."

"But he's going to be alright, isn't he?" George leaned forward, gripping the edge of the bed, knuckles white.

"He shows all the signs of making a full recovery."

_Good. Thank God._ George exhaled, relief crashing down like a wave, and for the first time since he woke up he smiled. Suddenly a nurse came bustling in, and the man stood aside, punching in a number with grim efficiency.

George's attention shifted, as the woman moved about, checking his vitals and adjusting the drip in his arm, smiling down at him when she felt his eyes on her. He smiled in return, feeling the drugs take effect almost immediately.

He didn't see the man leave; relaxing bonelessly into the pillows, he felt sleep creeping up on him. Eyes drifting closed, he could've sworn he'd heard another sound- a distinctive booming that shook the window panes slightly, then fading out.

George sent a prayer up as he fell asleep, hoping that the Gods who'd been looking out for them, weren't going anywhere. Then blackness took over, and his head nodded backward, breathing evening out.

Everything would be okay now.

* * *

As soon as the coffee cup hit the table, Chloe knew the interview was over. Wiping all expression off her features, she looked across the table, giving an equally icy look to the man in the opposite chair, to whom she'd been forced to listen to for over a half hour, spouting nonsense about the Hospital budget. Smoothly ducking all her questions with more questions, and avoiding all her attempts to steer the conversation back to where she'd wanted.

Swallowing her anger, she smiled, nodding to his inquiry to refill her cup. As he rose, and turned back to the coffee machine in the corner, she had the sudden urge to yell at his back, completely frustrated.

And for Chloe, completely frustrated meant one thing; when Clark eventually showed up, he'd be dealing with one very pissed off reporter, not to mention one very stodgy Hospital Administrator. She wondered how her super powered friend would cope with _that. _

Chloe stamped her foot in irritation. _Eight o'clock, Clark, damn it. _For the umpteenth time, she discretely moved her sleeve back to check her wristwatch, its silver face telling her the almost exact same thing it had over one minute ago. 8:29 switched over to 8:30am, and she pursed her lips in agitation.

Desperately, she whispered, "_Clark, where are you? Hurry up!" _

"What?" Her companion half turned. "Did you say something?"

Clearing her throat, she shook her head, half of her hoping another person had heard her besides him. "Sorry, no."

_Oh, what I am going to do to you, Clark Kent, when you finally decide to Speedy Gonzales your way here…_Just as she was dreaming up several dismemberment scenarios, gratefully accepting the steaming cup from the Mr Greer, as he sat back down, the doorknob turned.

It surprised the pair enough to stand up, Chloe smoothing out her trousers, setting the cup down on the table, knowing through a weird sixth sense developed from nineteen years in Smallville, just who was on the other side of that door.

As Clark blew in, apologising laughingly as he took a seat next to Chloe, she let out a relieved whoosh of breath, and relaxed into the chair. Mr Greer stood opposite them, making small chat for a few moments, then sat down again, frowning once he realised the interview had been revived again.

Leaning over slightly, she caught Clark's eyes, and led then down to what she'd been scribbling on her notebook before he'd arrived. In her small, cursive she'd written plainly: '_This guy is a complete spin jockey!' _repeatedly, in the centre of the page.

Looking up again, the pair shared a smile. Clark shifted, bringing a miniature recorder from his pocket to the table, letting it sit there for several seconds, unexplained. As Mr Greer's eyes drifted down to squint, mildly surprised at the item, Clark began to speak.

"Mr Greer, would it be possible to tape the following interview? Just in case we were to misinterpret something you might mention, accidentally of course…"

Mr Greer was slightly off put. "Well, now…I'm not…I guess it would be fi…"

"Great," Clark pushed forward, his mouth titling upwards, posture relaxed. "So, to open, Mr Greer, how would you explain the recent budget cuts to staffing levels at the Hospital? Especially considering the implications it was to have, say, if an incident occurred. Much like the one downstairs, right now?"

As the man spluttered, indignant, Chloe moved her hand up, hiding her smile. The interview would be okay now, she projected happily, before she began speaking.

"And isn't it also true, sir, that recently several staff members were unfairly fired because of their inquiries into the matter?" Her face hardened, while she gleefully clapped her hands internally at the look of sweaty desperation now emanating from the 'Artful Dodger' sitting opposite, obviously uncomfortable as he tugged at his tie.

"Well, hold on…what are you…I don't…how did you find…"

_Yep_, Chloe smiled, _this interview is going to be okay, now_.

* * *

**Thanks all- once again. And once again, Clark and now, after a word from our Sponsers, LexCorp, a new version of the Segeath doll, complete with dripping fangs will be available (to the doll: You're soooo cute, yes you are- )Ummm, side note: No responsiblility is held by the suppliers should the doll come to live with an evil agenda...Kryptonite not included. **


	8. First days, memorable meetings

_****_

**Disclaimer: Yep, we all know the drill…Making no profit from this yada yada yada…Smallville, and Supergirl, and any other shows made mention of here, are the profit of those people who own them (grrrr, and How I hate them.) If _I did_ own Smallville, why in all of the wacky planets in our universe would I be doing this... :)**

_**I cannot apologize more for my extreme tardiness when it comes to updating this story. I will promise to get the next edition out as soon as possible. **_

_**With that in mind...onto the next portion in our exciting chronicles of Clark and friends...**_

* * *

COUNTDOWN: 8 DAYS, 12 Hours, 30 mins

Smallville High towered above the scorching pavement; waves of heat sending the edges of the building into a shifting, wavering cast. The sun beat down, and the teens and teachers alike forgo-ed the lingering sociality of the parking lot for the dark, cool air conditioned halls inside that beckoned.

Those students pounding through the double doors had no idea that today two aliens would face down each other down by the time the sun set that afternoon; but if any of them did, they wouldn't have really been very surprised about it…

A lot tended to happen at Smallville High during the average week; Kryptonite mutants surfaced and either tried to kill off half of the Faculty, or go after Lana Lang, Chloe Sullivan, or the latest poor girl that had the misfortune of wrong time, wrong place syndrome.

Either way, most of the students shrugged it off. It was all relative. And this was high school.

* * *

It had been the hottest day on record, since…well, ever. Not even last year's swelter held a candle to the scorching heat that burned up the pavement. Students detested the urgency to leave the comfort of their air-conditioned cars, even for a second in this heat, and walk the many steps to the awaiting doors and halls, crowded and humid.

The school building stood behind a wavy, haze rising up from the ground. Not a cloud speckled the clear blue sky, no wind rustling the tree leaves. Just sticky, stagnant air.

As the crowds piled through the double glass doors of the main entrance, many breathed a sigh of relief as the slight, cool breeze that tousled their hair slightly, as they stepped further into the long corridors of Smallville High. One girl, all red hair and skirt, weaved through the crowds, unpolitic as she slammed into someone's locker door, and kept going.

Breathing out through her nose, Chloe extracted herself from the mess her fallen books created as she dropped them back into her locker, catching herself on the metal frame in time to avoid an embarrassing fall. She swore, shaking out her hand as the impact sting sent needles of pain up her arm.

She sent the perpetrator a foul look and slammed her locker shut, muttering curses as she twirled the lock. With a sigh, she reached back to pull the hair off the back of her neck, and dived into the crowds.

She thought briefly, of writing an article on the school policies regarding the ancient air conditioning system, necessary for a building that size, but not entirely maintained as it should. It broke down so many times she wondered why they even bothered turning it on at all. _Because, maybe today will be that lucky time, when nothing happens at all! _

"Hey Chloe," a voice rang out, cheerily innocent from behind her. Rolling her eyes, she answered.

"Clark, hey." He sauntered up, looking disgustingly sweat-free and clothed in a long-sleeved flannelette shirt that had seen better days. She frowned. The heat hadn't affected him at all- _damn _it. She wanted to kill him for that smile in this temperature. Instead, she turned back, gesturing to the lines of weary students, dragging through the corridor ahead.

"Look at that," she shook her head. "Hundreds of kids turned zombified because of the school's incessant need to cut back- primarily denying to replace the turn of the century air conditioner that should have been traded up when Bush retired from office- the older one."

"Who's a 'zombie'? And, more importantly, how does Clark stop them?" Pete jumped up, startling Chloe, slapping Clark on the shoulder with an acknowledging grin, who smiled back.

"Pete, hey!"

"Hey, man."

He turned to Clark, suddenly serious. "So, what's the 'Freak of the Week' 'ario, cause I have a genuine need not to get hit on the head anymore. The family doctor's getting kinda suspicious, me coming in twice a month for concussions and all. Anymore of that, and I gotta start paying rent for the room. No joke."

Chloe frowned; she was in no mood to deal with Pete's humour this early. "'Hello Chloe'", she waved dumbly at herself, her expression facetious. "'I don't have to talk to you because you're not here at all'," she screwed up her nose, tone rising in a lower, boyish pitch, "Gee, Clark I wonder where Chloe is this morning- I haven't seen her at all.'"

"Funny," he deadpanned, then turned to Clark, standing to the side, amused at the exchange. "Wassup?" he held up his hand in greeting. "Gimme some Kryptonian skin." Shaking his head in a half smile, Clark reluctantly lifted his hand up to finish the high five, the pair missing Chloe's expression shift from annoyance, to disbelief.

Her mouth dropped. "Pete," she hissed, dragging him into the stairwell. "Are you insane? Or did you just wake up this morning and think 'I'm going to stupidly expose my best friend today, before first period'?"

He stared at her incredulous, yanking his arm out of her grip, and shot back. "Okay, first of all: Clark and I were tight with this 'thing'", he drew it out, punctuating with air commas, "and were doing all good, long before you joined the 'I'm clued into aliens' club. Secondly: This entire school all wear blinkers with fashioned head-straps when it comes to mutants- they don't know, and they don't wanna know. High School, man! "

Shaking his head, he continued. "And third," she pulled back from him, eyes slitting in rising anger. "What is up with you this morning? You just wake up and say 'Today I'm gonna bust up Pete before first period, because it's wicked fun!'"

By this point, the three reached the door of the Torch, and Chloe stormed in first, dumping her bag down on the nearest desk, and crossed her arms, scowling back at Pete, who had moved over to stand next to the windows.

They glared at each other in silence for a moment, before Clark jumped in, slightly confused at the tension in the room. The tension the pair was swimming in certainly wasn't bad moods at this morning's quipping. This had a definite undercurrent of unsaid baggage to it.

"Guys," he started, but a double set of glares had him backing down. "Alright…" raising both hands to ward off the pairs shared look, he gave a quick glance over his shoulder, and sank into the desk chair behind him.

Chloe spoke first, tossing Clark's interruption aside. "This isn't about whose right and who isn't, Pete!"

"Sure it is- with you, it always is, Chloe!"

"Oh, come on Pete! Don't start this again…"

"Me? You're the one who started it! You just get angry when someone else comes up with an idea you don't like!"

"Pete, part of being a good reporter is searching every possible angle. But you need to have something more than '_a spooky feeling_' to go on."

"…Oh for the love of…Chloe, you are sitting in the room with a little green man," Clark's eyebrow rose at this, catching Pete's attention and he back pedalled, mentally. "Sorry Clark…And you are attending Smallville High, mutant magnet for the Kansas area… Look behind you- does anything on the Wall of Weird not scream 'Spooky feeling' to you?!"

"FINE!" Chloe threw her hands up in the air, fed up. "You follow your instincts, and I'll do the same. Deal?"

Nodding, Pete sank into a hair at the opposite end of the room. Tersely, he responded. "Fine." The pair settled into the silence, glaring at each other from over their computer terminals every five seconds.

Clark, who had been watching this with growing confusion, sighed into the tense air, and chose his words carefully. "Does anyone want to…tell me…why you guys…"

Chloe looked up from her typing and steepled her hands on the desk. "Oh," she asked demurely. "You are referring to why Pete…" a grunt echoed from over the other side of the room, "is acting so childishly?"

Both of his friends had turned to stare at him now, eyes slits. Clark shifted in his stance, uncomfortable. "Well, actually you both seem…"

Chloe cut in, ignoring him completely. "Well, then I'll tell you- it seems that _Pete_ had decided that, for reasons unknown, that he would like to try…something different…with the story we're currently researching. He seems to think that my methods are inappropriate in this instance! We both decided to resolve the issue…separately!"

Clark's eyes swivelled around to Pete, who shrugged his shoulders. "Look, all I know is this case is not the normal 'Wall of Weird' weekly mutant we're dealing with. When I told Chloe that-"

"Oh, you told me that huh? Funny because all I heard was 'Gee Chloe, I don't know' when I asked you the other day…" Chloe bit out, cocking her head to the side in mock confusion.

"…anyway," Pete turned back to Clark, continuing, "I though it might be a good idea to try something a little different… and hey presto!" He gestured to Chloe, "psycho reporter going ape. News at eleven!"

Clark doubted that was all there was to it, but wisely chose to keep it to himself. Knowing his two best friends like he had since grade school, he knew it take a while before it all settled itself out. He, however, decided to avoid the impending grief, and nip it in the bud right then.

"I just know I'm going to regret asking this; But what exactly happened after I left the hospital this morning?" He spoke slowly, addressing both other occupants of the room with a measured cool, which seemed to do the trick. After several more seconds of silence, Chloe sighed, swivelling the chair around to stare at him. Her eyes held his for a moment, reading the calm there, and a crooked smile threatened as the side of her mouth titled up.

She laughed then, and like a bubble popping, the tension drained out of the pair. Even Pete joined in. "I 'm sorry Clark. Pete and I had a mild disagreement," she spared a shy glance at Pete, who had relaxed enough to roll his eyes at the understatement. "About the Brandon Muller case we've been looking into for the past few weeks."

Clark grinned, infinitely feeling more at ease since his two best friends called a truce after the sudden flair of tempers in the hall. "'Mild' is a bit of an understatement," he chucked, drawing a set of rueful glances from the pair. "Brandon Muller?"

Pete and Chloe opened their mouths simultaneously, but it was Pete that got in the first word. Sitting back in his chair, the facts swirling around in his brain, he tried to compress the streaming mess, into a much simpler, Pete-style explanation.

"A couple of days back, this new kid…ahh…Brandon Muller, was found dead on the road, two miles out of town, along the Kansas interstate. Some truck driver for Wayne Industries found the body around five am, just as he was going under the overpass for the Metropolis turnoff."

Chloe jumped in, all business. "Police reports say there was no witnesses, but believe Brandon may have willingly jumped of the overpass, to, well,…you know," Clark grimaced slightly at the supplied implication. Chloe cleared her throat, and continued.

"Well, I checked the school files and turns out, our Mr Muller was paying regular visits to the local therapist the weeks prior to his death."

Clark jumped in at this point, circling the computer terminal in front of him to sit. "Yeah, but isn't that par for course, considering his mental state leading up to his death? He might have sought help before it got worse."

"Ah, hah," Chloe wiggled her finger at Clark. Pete smirked from across the room. "She loves doing this part," his smile widened as Chloe sent him a dark look before railroading on.

She sat down behind the Mac terminal next to Clarks, and after a second of typing, triumphantly brought up the window on the blue screen. With a small gesture, she motioned to the screen, half turning in her chair to face Pete and Clark as they came up behind her.

The trio stared at the screen. "Say hello to Mr Muller's psychological evaluations to date."

Clark frowned, several key words and sentences jumping out at him from the screen. "This can't be right." His eyes tracked down the page, scrolling through the information in less than a second. He looked up to see a similar expression echoed on his companions, but were holding theirs back with some amused smirks, waiting for him to arrive at their shared conclusion.

"Cue the 'spooky feeling' spine crawl", quipped Pete catching the questions in his friend's eyes. "Told ya it was Wall Wacky Weirdness material."

"Pete," Chloe cut in, mildly irritated.

Clark decided to head this newest argument off at the pass. He picked the most obvious question first. "So an exchange student with one of the highest IQ's in the school, and of near perfect mental health, by all accounts, with an intense fear of heights, is found underneath an overpass…and the police are saying, 'suicide'?"

He pursed his lips in concentration. "Chloe, do you think you could pull up the coroner's rep…"

"Done, and done." Swivelling back to the screen, Chloe clicked the mouse several times in quick succession, smiling as the Smallville Morgue homepage flashed on the screen. Muttering, she went through the steps for Clark and Pete's benefit, "revisit history, click recent case files, password…"

Pete stopped her there for a second, curious. "Are we worried that you have clearly 'borrowed' the Chief Medical Examiner's personal log code to do this?" He stared down at the asterisks as they appeared in the password space. He didn't see Chloe roll her eyes at him, hitting the final sequence of keys. She quipped back, "Wouldn't be the first time."

"Here," she frowned at the screen. She scrunched forward in the chair, so the boys could lean closer, all eyeing the screen with avid attention. The picture loaded onto the screen, illuminating the body with pinpoint pixel clarity, and all three gulped down, at the slight hint of nausea that surfaced.

Pete made an indecipherable grossed out noise in the back of his throat, sharing a look with the others before turning back to the macabre images scrolling down the page. Chloe stopped at one of the face, white blue and mottled with bruising, finger poised above the mouse, and echoed that sentiment. "I'll see you that ewww, and raise you a urggh, guys."

Shaking off a sensation of deep unsettlement, Clark leaned past Chloe's shoulder, and pointed to the next image, partially visible at the bottom of the screen. His head felt odd, instincts jumping to life, and he cleared his voice. "Chloe go to that last image."

Chloe moved, uncomfortable with Clark's close proximity, but complied. She couldn't help but wonder about her friend, _friend_, she strongly reminded herself, and what had caused the sudden response, as he almost squashed her into the desk, leaning in even closer to catch the last image as it came up.

His sudden intake of breath confirmed her suspicions, but as her eyes searched the picture, she couldn't pick up anything out of the ordinary. Her voice held her questions in it, slightly high with concern.

"Clark, what," With a quick glance over her shoulder, she wondered at the tightening of his eyes, the strain lines around his mouth. Following his fixed stare, she looked back at the image, and caught something she'd previously overlooked. Clicking on the last picture she maximized it, concentrating the little eyeglass that appeared on the lower half of the body's back. The tiny black mark came into shocking focus, and they all breathed out.

Eyes widening, she leant back in her chair, arms crossed as she considered this new piece of information.

Pete, typically, was the first to speak. He gestured to the small tattoo at the base of the spine, that had transfixed them all, "Isn't that…" he squinted his eyes, "from the inscriptions on the Cave walls?"

Clark moved off, drawn to the mid-morning light streaming through the stuttered windows, stared out at nothing, remaining quiet, drawn into a private line of thought. He was oblivious to the looks of concern Chloe and Pete shot him, before they looked back at the screen.

Chloe nodded. "I'd say, this case is definitely more than what the police have pegged. We need to find out what and fast," she spared another look over at Clark, who had yet to remark, "before this thing escalates."

Walking over to his discarded backpack, Pete felt the disgust he'd hidden at the first sight of the remains of the young man rise in force; another teenager, who'd been walking the halls of Smallville High with the rest of them, until a week ago. Someone's life was over, gone. Shrugging it off, to get to the next clue, just didn't seem…okay to him.

Clark felt it too, because he chose that moment to answer.

"The fact that someone's dead, means it's already escalated, Chloe," he spoke each word slowly, aware that both of his friends had turned to stare at him. Their faces were a mirror of his own; sadness, and seriousness all at once. "Now it's about getting to the truth; doing right by Brandon's memory...not letting the police let him go down as a kid who couldn't handle it anymore."

Chloe licked her lips and shut off the monitor, putting the images out of sight, into the computer's memory, and hers; determined, now more than before, to solve this mystery.

The sharp, sudden piercing ring of the bell for fist period echoed down the halls, hitting against the sensitive air in the Torch office abrasively, causing them all to jump, startled at the noise.

Gathering at her textbooks strewn over the desk, Chloe took the moment to compose herself for the barrage of classes ahead. As she crammed her overstuffed book bag with the intention of running off to make it to Chemistry before lockout, something niggling in the back of her brain, rushed into her consciousness, and her pretty, shiny features scrunched up in sudden displeasure. She'd completely forgotten; the principal would not be happy about her slip-up either.

Her groan brought the attention of the others swinging over to her as they all rushed out into the emptying halls, worry descending on their faces as they looked her over.

"Chloe, you are okay, right?" Clark asked for the pair, as they swung their backpacks onto their respective shoulders, rushing down the corridor in long strides that had her scurrying to match the pace.

Chloe sighed, stopping abruptly, turning to give them both a wry grimace. "I just forgot; I'm s'posed to be meeting the Principal in his office, oh like…five minutes ago."

Pete quirked a smile, wiggling his fingers at her. "Straight-laced Sullivan sent to the principal's office? What did you do to earn that honour? Misquote the new lunch menu in the Torch?

Both of them wore large grins on their faces, and Chloe had to purposely restrain herself from another eye rolling before she ended up cross-eyed, thanks to the antics of her own personal Laurel and Hardy.

"No," drawing out the denial, she sighed again, realizing how late she was. "The new girl was arriving today, and the Principal wanted someone responsible…"

"Again, why you?" Pete interjected, and Clark grinned at the repressed scowl she tried to keep off her face.

She rode over the remark, continuing on in spite of her temper rising with the flush staining her cheeks. "…Enough from the peanut gallery please." The look she sent her friend said simply, 'shut up, or else.'

"She's staying in Smallville for the term, and needs someone _responsible_, to guide her through the trials of the Smallville High cliché system. Namely, yours truly," she finished, catching the shadow that passed over Clark's face.

Pete parted ways with them outside the Chem. labs, making them promise to update him on anything that came their way in regards to the case. As he tumbled into the labs, Chloe and Clark shared a smirk as they caught the sarcastic drawl of Mr Sherman before the door closed. "Mr Rose, so glad you could join us…"

The man was eternally mixing up the students last names, and today looked to be no different. Pete's indignant interruption to correct the mistake was overridden and he sat down, glowering at the snickers of the rest of the class.

He'd be wearing that name for a while, until the jocks tired of it. Discreetly he turned to look over his shoulder at Ashley Rose, the tall, pretty girl whose name he'd inadvertently wound up stuck with, and smiled at the pretty blush staining her nose and freckled cheeks. The answering grin warmed his face, and he snapped back to stare at the blackboard.

Despite the heat, today might not be so bad. The thought danced through his head, before he opened the textbook with a sigh. A cobra stared up at him from the pages of his fraying Chemistry handbook. Then again… Urgh. He hated snakes.

* * *

The two friends hurried down the silent halls, eager to make their respective classes. As they neared his destination, Clark gave way to the niggling of doubt that had been pursuing him since the Chem. labs.

"Chloe, a new student at the school might be more than co-incidence…be…"

Before he even gave his warning, Chloe held up a hand, silencing him. "Clark, you don't need to tell me to be careful. Besides, we have the rest of the day to figure out the newest turns in this whole thing. We agreed to work on it together. So no rushing off to search the caves on my own…Promise," she crossed her heart, and held up her fingers Boy Scout style.

Clark smiled down at her, mildly relieved at the reassurance, but troubled nonetheless. He knew Smallville, but more importantly, he knew what his friend was like around a new mystery.

"Okay, okay," he grinned for a second, then allowed his voice to lower to a more serious tone. "Even though you will be, just _be_ extra careful, alright. We barely know anything yet, so eyes and ears open first. Okay?" he held her gaze, his eyes dark and assessing.

Reacting to the worry she saw in her friends eyes, she was quick to agree. She nodded, mentally crossing her fingers; since she knew her friend could, at times literally see through her. And she knew him as much as he knew her; letting him worry unnecessarily didn't sit easy with her. So she lied.

"Sure Clark, no running off half cocked. But you know, not everyone sees and hears as well as you do."

She was rewarded with a blinding smile, and felt herself go slightly weak at the knees. He really had to stop smiling like that; she doubted he really knew the affect the Kent charm had on a girl's nervous system. Oh, boy!

The classroom door closed, and Chloe realized she was standing alone in the corridor. Shaking her head to rid the cobwebs, she blew the fringe off her forehead, and jogged up the stairwell to the third floor.

As the door to the Principal's office loomed at the end of the hallway, she mentally drew a deep breath; chastising herself for her reaction to Clark, even after everything they'd gone through to remain friends. _Sometimes_, she griped, _I just can't help myself_.

"Careful, Sullivan. Be careful….except, I'm already there." Reaching for the door handle, she jerked back in surprise as the door was opened from the other side, and the doorway filled with the imposing shadow of the man himself.

_There's another one with super hearing_, Chloe thought to herself as she tried to smile apolitically at the glowering man.

"Principal……" She was proud; her voice only rose a little. "I'm sorry about being late. But you see, the thing is …traffic….errrr…the roads this morning was just insane, and I was stuck on the highway for an hour. It was just not moving." She barked out a little laugh. "You know how it is, I'm sure."

Only a little disconcerted that she was lying for the second time in as many minutes, she caught sight of a very tall, blonde beauty peering out from behind the Principal, wearing a distinctly amused expression, and Chloe's eyes widened as she remembered the face from this morning.

All the girl had to do was speak up, and she would be up for a month of weekend detentions. She was already skating on thin ice with the School administration, and thanks to Clark's recounting of his run-ins with the man, was fully acquainted with the Principal's tolerance for tardiness.

"I'm fortunately glad I am unaware as to how _it_ is, Miss Sullivan," the big, dark man took a moment to pin her with a laser beam glare, and Chloe felt an urge to squirm she thought she'd outgrown in the second grade. But she must have passed, because she relaxed at the humourless smile he gave her.

"Try to be a little earlier in your arrival next time. Being kept waiting is not something I tolerate more than once. Is that clear?"

Chloe buried her signature grin she felt when she knew she'd just dodged the figurative, or literal bullet. She nodded, mock serious. "Clear as crystal." For a second she caught the sudden grimace on the other girl's face at her choice of words. She filed that one away, mildly curious at the reaction, before putting it to the back of her mind_. One mystery at a time, Sullivan. _The pair shared a glance as the blonde caught the inquisitive look Chloe sent her, and her face turned to stone.

Their attention turned back to the Principal as he spoke again, his deep timbre practically demanding obedience. "Well, Linda I hope the disruption of a new school is swift, and you join the many students at Smallville High with ease," he held out his hand politely, and had to clamp his jaw down on the pain that spasm-ed through his fingers as she returned the grip with a guarded smile.

"Well," he cleared his throat, smiling tightly down at the two as he pulled his hand back rather quickly, "I will leave you in the capable han…_company_ of Miss Sullivan to show you around, help you adjust to your classes." With that he nodded briskly at Chloe, turned back into his office, closing the door forcefully as he hurried to nurse back the encroaching numbness in his hand.

Holding back a grin as she watched the man retreat into his office with a bang, Chloe felt the gaze of the new girl bore into her head, and she turned back to catch a look of profound intensity settled across her features. Something oddly familiar struck Chloe then, like that look she had seen many times before on the face of another. Something about the shape of the face, the set of the eyes….A shiver went down her spine as the blinding smile Clark had shared with her minutes earlier flashed through her brain.

_Weird._ She should get Clark and this one together for a staring match. Talk about intense city.

Then, the girl smiled, her blue eyes twinkling with mischief. "So, traffic jam, huh?"

Chloe let the train of thought disappear, and smiled back. "Yeah. Much like your impressive agility in the high jump arena, there are some things that would give everyone a headache to dwell on." Gesturing to the door, she added, "Shall we?"

The blue eyes twinkled again. "Sure." In one swift movement she retrieved her backpack from the base of the office chair and straightened gracefully, joining Chloe as she strode through the door out to the stairwell.

"Okay," Chloe studied the class-plan, "looks like you have the dreaded Miss Bernstein for English literature first…but since you're new, and it's your first day, lets spare the aggravation of turning up to that banshee's class late…"

Her companion cut in, a slightly worried look on her face. "Wait…banshee being…"

Chloe's eyebrow raised more than a bit, but answered seriously, "Figurative. Why do you ask?" She was more than a little curious.

The blonde blushed furiously, eyes cast downward, looking more than a little embarrassed, like she wanted to retract the question, but was stuck in the uncomfortable state of having to reply. "Well, I googled this place before I arrived. And Smallville, well, the reputation of this place was…definitely _Inquisitive_." The last word was loaded with a double meaning, and Chloe suddenly understood the reason behind the question. And groaned internally. The Inquisitor was amongst the highest gossip mongers of the happenings of the town than the actual townspeople themselves.

"Yeah, well," she flushed with anger, "it's advisable to not take anything that trash-rag prints at face value only."

Linda nodded sagely, cocking her head slightly at the undercurrent of anger she felt. "So, you're really not a fan of their's, are you?"

Chloe spared the insightful girl a smile, "I'm definitely not on their frequent subscriber list, that's for certain. You?"

She grinned, "Definitely not. For one thing, they have absolutely no ideas as to the difference between mutants and zombies. Really sloppy reporting style too."

Chloe wasn't quite sure how serious the girl was, or how sane she was either, so she remained silent to commit to a response to that one. She did, however, rejoin with some humour of her own.

"Linda, I have the feeling you're going to fit in here just fine."

* * *

It was approximately seventeen blocks from the University to his apartment. He'd counted it in a supreme fit of boredom one day, as the heavy traffic he had found himself in, robbed him of the early start he'd wanted for his day.

And for each one of those blocks, Professor Manners was damn sure he was being followed.

Every few minutes, his gaze would swing from the cars in front, to the rear-view mirror, in which he would clearly see the dark sedan, keeping pace, about fifty metres behind him. The same sedan he'd spied outside his apartment building that morning at seven when he'd set off for the University. The same car he'd glimpsed out of the corner of his eye as he'd made his way to and from the grocery store the prior evening.

He was not an overly paranoid man by nature. But with the events of the past few weeks, and the sudden arrival of a very, important manuscript, left him feeling very on edge. All his attempts to rationalise this sudden conspicuous tail proved completely futile, relieving him none at all. After all, how many goddamn people in Metropolis drove the same make, model and colour car? One that it seemed, intent on deliberately shadowing his every move?

In any case, the book never left his side. He let his tired eyes stray to it, lying on the passenger side seat, gold lettering shining and fading as he drove down the sun dappled streets.

God, he had prayed for the manuscript. Reaching a red light, he stomped hard on the brakes, earning a string of colourful expletives from other motorists; scarcely noticing the symphonic domino effect of squealing tyres he caused behind him. Now, his face hard as he considered his latest dilemma, he prayed for time.

Hour upon maddening hour he had poured through its pages, hoping for the signifying set of key symbols he needed. The entire book read like…gibberish, without them. And he was running out of options, fast.

Blinking wearily, he took a half-hearted swipe of his eyes, gritty from sleeplessness, with the back of one hand. Damn it…looked like another night of crashing on the cot in his office. He exhaled, a sigh escaping, reinforcing the weariness he felt down to his bones. God, he was tired…and no closer to unravelling this mystery than when he started.

He'd desperately waited for that book; now it seemed more of a step backwards than anything. The niggling doubt that had been plaguing him ever since he first slammed the book shut in frustration, came back with force; and, damn it, the whole situation made him feel angry, if not downright stupid.

The turnoff for Met U approached fast on the left, and changing lanes without pause, he jerked the car around the sharp corner without thought. Ignoring another string of car horns, he pulled himself back to the present. He wouldn't get another chance to solve this mystery if he ended up wrapping his car bonnet around a tree; shaking his head at his own carelessness, he downshifted, his own breathing emulating the slowing rev's in the engine.

Unconsciously, his eyes strayed to the rear view mirror. Nothing. The tricks of an active imagination on the overtired mind, he decided wryly, relaxing as the miles hummed under the tires. Moments later, the flush summer gardens of the University entrance came into view. Turning into the drive; the car dropped its speed as the early morning traffic began to build.

Pulling into the Staff parking lot, he turned off the engine with a click, and let a moment of silence descend on the car as he leant forward to rest his head on the wheel. With a weariness he felt right down to the bones, he drug his errant body out of the car, and turned towards the Anthropology Wing, the manuscript tucked securely under one arm.

The cot in his office beckoned with a silent call. He'd sleep for a brief nap, and then it was back to it. The book held the key, or at least, the key to the key.

He just had to find it. The clock was ticking down; and soon, the darkness would be here, and then…

Then there would be no stopping it.


End file.
